


Shadows Fall

by TwinkleToes1224



Series: The Dawn Will Come [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cousland is not a Warden, F/M, Multi-Warden, Novelization, Surana is not a warden, Tabris is not a Warden, mostly canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-22 10:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13761963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinkleToes1224/pseuds/TwinkleToes1224
Summary: Guinevere Cousland was living the normal life of a Teryn's daughter when everything was turned upside down. Betrayed and on the run she finds herself in Ostagar, too late for the joining ritual, and meets Alistair and the two new Wardens, Braden Amell and Nuala Aeducan. Together, the group of four must find a way to end the Blight and save Ferelden.





	1. A Day in the Life of

 

Guinevere Cousland glared at her opponent. He was taunting her with his arms held out and away from his body, as if a mere girl of fourteen could do no damage to him. It didn’t matter that she held a dagger in her left hand and a sword in her right.

  
There was a stupid grin on his face, as if to challenge her. It only made her angrier. “Alright, if that’s how you want to play…” she growled before charging her opponent and sticking her dagger through his chest. She spun as she impaled him and swung her sword around to decapitate him. The stupid grin never left his face.  
“Andraste’s holy knickers, Guin, what did that dummy ever do to you?”

  
Guinevere spun around to see her brother standing in the doorway to the courtyard, an amused smile on his face. He was wearing his armor and a Cousland shield attached to his back, his dark hair messily swept away from his face. He was tall, like their father, standing just over 6 feet. While Guin only reached a meager 5’5” in comparison, she may have a few more inches in her left to grow. She frowned and looked back at the stuffed dummy that was her opponent. Straw littered the ground around the dummy, its head lying off to the side with more straw falling out. “He mocked me,” she stated simply. Fergus guffawed before walking over to her.

  
“You’ll have to remind me never to piss you off,” he chuckled good naturedly, dark brown eyes sparkling with mirth. Guin smiled at him. Her brother was one of four people in Highever that didn’t doubt her combat abilities. Her father, Bryce Cousland, saw her as a relatively helpless ‘pup,’ which is where he got the nickname from. Even so, he was one of the people to teach her combat, so he believed she could hold her own. Her mother, Eleanor Cousland, disapproved of her desire to be a fighter. She wished Guin to be like every other Teyrn’s daughter. Stay inside, look pretty, and someday marry a man of good status. Which reminded her…

  
“So, when is Oriana getting here?” Guin inquired. Oriana and Fergus had gotten engaged several months ago, and the wedding was to take place as soon as she arrived from Antiva.

  
Fergus sighed and looked towards the door. When he looked back to his sister, she could see excitement in his eyes. “Any minute now. The guards were going to blow a horn to announce when her caravan gets here and I am to meet her at the front gates,” he answered, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as he turned back to her. Guin smiled at him. He was like an excited puppy, barely able to contain his energy. To be perfectly honest, being in Fergus’s presence when Oriana was around was gag inducing, they were so in love. She thanked the Maker fervently that they never really finished each other’s sentences or did the whole ‘dressing coordinated’ routine that some of her so-called friends did with their sweethearts.

  
Guin says ‘so-called friends’ because she didn’t really have anything in common with them. They were all perfect noblemen’s daughters. They stayed inside, looked pretty, and were all well on their way to making good matches for marriage. They were also rather dimwitted girls, frankly. All they concerned themselves with were what shoes, finery, and hairstyles were in style, King Cailan’s coronation, and what knight was the most handsome at the tournament. Guin inwardly sighed at the thought. First of all, the only thing exciting about Cailan’s coronation was whether he’d do as good a job or better than his deceased father, King Maric. Secondly, you were supposed to be watching the combat at a tournament, not going weak-kneed at the sight of a handsome man. However, Guin rarely went to the tournaments to watch; instead she participated, and didn’t do too badly most of the time.

  
“Guin, I did come find you for a reason,” Fergus said, interrupting her thoughts.

  
Guin looked at her brother slightly confused and tilted her head a little to the side. “What for? Ares isn’t in trouble again, is he?” Ares was her faithful mabari. She’d received the puppy earlier that year at her fourteenth birthday. For some reason, he enjoyed following Nan – their cook – around when not with Guin. By doing that, the cook came to resent him and somehow always blamed things on Ares.

 

Fergus shook his head. “No, Ares is – for once – not in any sort of mischief. Actually, mother and father are looking you. Arl Howe and his son, Thomas, are here.”

  
Guin groaned. Arl Howe’s son, Thomas Howe, was one of the ‘men of good status’ that her mother was hoping would be an eventual son-in-law. Although, the term ‘man’ was being quite generous, since Thomas was a year younger than she, and at thirteen, barely out of boyhood. The Howes, though, had been family friends for years. Guin had next to no interest in getting married. She was only fourteen, first of all, and she would only marry for love – which was difficult to find for a female fighter simply because men were too intimidated by her.

  
Fergus frowned at his younger sister. “Would it really be so bad to get to know Thomas?”

  
Guin glared at him, “you already know where I stand on this issue. I will only marry for love and I hate when people – especially mother – try to interfere with my personal life.”

  
“But you never give any of the suitors a chance, Guin. For all you know, you could end up loving one of them,” he argued. Even though what Fergus said made a kind of sense, Guin didn’t like the feeling of courting. It felt forced, especially since most of the suitors (not that there were many at her age) that came calling were after the status and rank her name could bestow. The young noblewoman wanted a relationship that came naturally, that was based on friendship and mutual respect. She would not be satisfied with any less.

  
“We’re not having this conversation,” she growled, sheathing her blades and stalking off toward the main hall. Fergus sighed in annoyance as he watched his younger sister stalk off. Guin just growled quietly to herself. She’d go and visit and pretend she was the perfect daughter of a Teyrn, but not for very long.

  
When she reached the doors to the main hall, she exhaled, pushing her annoyance back and put a cheery smile on her face. As she entered the room, all eyes turned to her. Her mother looked at her disapprovingly; dark hair pulled taught in twin braided buns added to the severity of her face. Her mother had always been elegant, but the way she wore her hair made her seem older than she was.

  
Guin understood the look, even expected it from her mother. She was, after all, still in her training armor and had blades attached to her back. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun, fallen strands framing her flushed face. Her green eyes were alight with her exercise and her forehead sparkled with a light sheen of sweat. Hardly in a state to receive visitors, but Guin really didn’t care.

  
“There she is!” her father exclaimed happily and stepped forward to embrace her. Bryce Cousland was tall and a little imposing, even though he was beginning to show his age. His dark hair was streaked with grey and his kind blue eyes surrounded by wrinkles.

  
“Papa, I apologize for my appearance, but Fergus caught me training,” Guin smiled. She pointedly ignored Arl Howe’s raised eyebrow and her mother’s embarrassed frown.  
“Have you at least been practicing your drawing, Guin?” her mother sighed. Drawing was one of the only lady-like activities her mother taught her that Guin actually enjoyed. Language and embroidery were too time-consuming and she wasn’t any good at music – not that she didn’t enjoy it.

  
“Yes mother,” she replied. In fact, she’d gone out that morning and drew for a few hours before returning to the castle to train after a quick lunch. She put as much time into her drawing as she did into her training.

  
“Pup, you remember Arl Howe and his son Thomas?” Bryce asked, indicating the Arl and his son. Guin turned to look at both of them and nodded slightly. The Arl was a dour looking man, his mouth downturned into a permanent frown under his hooked nose. Thomas – luckily – didn’t inherit the Arl’s looks. He had dark hair that was braided away from his face. His light eyes sparked as he looked at her. However, Thomas was a year younger than she was, a fact which annoyed Guin slightly.

  
She smiled at them, however, and said “yes, I do. How are you Arl Howe? Is Amaranthine as beautiful as ever?”

  
Howe smirked slightly at her and nodded. “Why yes it is. And may I say, Bryce, that each day Amaranthine grows in beauty, so does your daughter.” Guin blushed slightly and her father laughed.

  
“How has your training been going?” Thomas asked.

  
Guin turned to him, eyebrows slightly raised. “Well, actually,” she replied before turning to her father. “And we’re going to need another training dummy in the courtyard.”  
Bryce sighed, “you decapitated another one? I’m sure the guards are getting annoyed with headless dummies being returned to them.”

  
“If someone would spar with me, I wouldn’t be decapitating the dummies,” Guin countered, arms folding across her chest. That set both Bryce and Howe laughing.

  
“I’ll spar with you, if that’s agreeable,” Thomas offered, looking to his father for permission. Howe nodded and turned to Bryce, eyebrows raised.

  
“I don’t see why not, but only practice swords for you two,” her father answered. “We don’t need anyone needlessly getting a limb hacked off.”

  
Guin smiled at her father before turning to Thomas, “so, ready to spar?” When he nodded, she turned toward the door, ignoring the delighted smile on her mother’s face. It wasn’t like they were courting. They were training for the Maker’s sake!

  
“Have fun _sparring_ , Pup!” her father called to them as they left. Guin’s whole body went rigid as she spun around, legendary temper flaring.

  
“Papa!!” She whined and he and her mother both laughed. With an embarrassed groan, she led Thomas out to the courtyard as swiftly as her feet could carry her without causing too much surprise to the servants they passed.

  
Sparring with Thomas turned out to be fun. He used dual weapons just like she did, but of course they were wooden substitutes. Neither Guin nor Thomas wanted to upset their parents by missing something they would most likely need in the future, like an arm or a leg. However, Guin could find no weakness to exploit or gain the upper hand with her speed. He was just as fast as she was and just as guarded. Every attack she launched, he would block and then knock her back with another attack that she’d have to block. They spun around each other, launching attacks and dodging when they could. She didn’t know how long they sparred, but after a while they each could gain hits as their opponent tired.

  
By the end, they both fell to the ground, panting. Neither had won their duel but both were sporting some intense bruises.

  
“Maybe… I should stick… to archery…” Guin panted as she lay on the ground and gazed at the sky.

  
“No… you’re amazing… with dual weapons…” Thomas replied, panting just as bad as she was. “No one has ever been able to… keep up with me before.” Guin smiled at the compliment. Now she had one more person who thought she was a good fighter. Maybe one day she’d be allowed to go into battle. That was a dream of hers, after all.  
Off in the distance, a horn sounded. Guin sat bolt upright, head swiveling in the direction of the sound. It had come from the front gate of the castle. Had Oriana, Fergus’s soon to be bride, arrived then?

  
Thomas had somehow gotten to his feet, breath still coming in pants. “You’re expecting someone?”

  
“Yes, Oriana, Fergus’s betrothed. She must have just arrived from Antiva!” Guin replied, standing as well. Her legs shook with fatigue and her lungs still burned from the workout, but she stayed on her feet.

  
Not a minute later, Eleanor came running into the courtyard all smiles. “Guin darling, run upstairs and wash. Oriana has just arrived and Nan is about done with dinner, so be quick!” She turned to Thomas now, smile widening slightly. “And you should wash up as well. Bryce has invited you and your father to stay for dinner.”

  
As soon as she’d come, Eleanor bustled out leaving Guin and Thomas in the courtyard.


	2. 5 Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 years have passed and Guin is now a young woman, preparing to take over running Highever Castle while her father and brother march south to Ostagar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2! After this I will begin posting every week until caught up to where I'm at in the story. This is still a work-in-progress. Enjoy!

Guin sat atop a hill outside the castle. The sky was a brilliant blue, not a single cloud to be seen. Blue birds chirped and danced around each other, zooming across the sky. She could see for miles from this spot and always enjoyed coming here to draw. She’d been drawing since she was a young child and it was one of the only things she’d kept up with from her ‘noble’s daughter’ training. Drawing was one of the only pastimes – other than training – that allowed her to think clearly.

  
She was not, however, drawing the scene in front of her. The image on her parchment was one from her imagination. It portrayed a woman fighting a dragon on a snowy mountaintop. She was dressed in shining armor with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other and a bow and arrows attached to her back. Her dark hair hung loose around her head and ended at her shoulders. The dragon had its maw wide open and was spewing white hot flames at the woman. Guin didn’t know who the woman was as she was facing the dragon, not her viewers. She also couldn’t imagine why a warrior would not tie their hair back. Guin had her own long dark hair pulled back in a braid that went down to her mid back.

  
In the last year or so, Guin had been getting these vivid scenes stuck in her head. The only way to get them out was to put them on the paper. She didn’t understand them at all, but her brother and nephew, Oren, thought they were amazing and always asked where the inspiration came from.

  
“Lady Cousland?”

  
Guin jumped at the sudden interruption, her graphite stick streaking across the page in her surprise. After she saw that her drawing was indeed ruined, she turned and glanced at the house keeper in annoyance. “Yes, Nan?” she growled back, putting her graphite stick down slowly. Ares – who had been sitting by her the whole afternoon – yawned and stretched in the grass, his light brown fur shining in the sunlight, before padding over to Nan, a smile on his face. Nan frowned down at Ares in response, as if being near the animal might cause some ungodly disaster to occur.

  
“Your father would like to see you in the main hall,” the house keeper stated. Guin sighed, stood, and packed up her drawing supplies. This was probably about him and Fergus leaving for Ostagar. Apparently, King Cailan had called for aid against a darkspawn horde a few days ago. Bryce was waiting for Arl Howe’s men to arrive so the Highever force could march with them.

  
“I’ll be down as soon as possible, Nan, thank you,” Guin replied and set about putting her armor back on. She hated wearing it while she drew. It limited her movements and was uncomfortable to sit in for more than an hour. In a few minutes, she was ready to see her father and started walking toward the castle. Ares made to follow her to the main hall but Guin shook her head. “No boy, this is probably going to be really boring for you. Why don’t you find somewhere to play or wait until I come out?” Ares huffed at her but nodded and trotted off in the direction of the kitchens. Guin sighed, she’d be hearing about this later from Nan for sure. Now that she stood outside the door to the main hall, she could hear her father and Arl Howe talking inside.

  
“I apologize, my lord, the delay is entirely my fault,” Howe was saying. The Amaranthine army was delayed? Guin wondered as she put her ear closer to the doors. Ok, sure, listening at the door was a completely immature way to gain information, but she would never know what was going on if she didn’t sneak around and eavesdrop occasionally.  
“It is not your fault, my friend. The appearance of the darkspawn in the south has everyone scrambling. I only received Cailan’s orders two days ago, myself. I’ll send my eldest off with some of my men ahead of us. You and I will ride tomorrow, just like the old days,” Bryce replied.

  
“Except we had much less gray in our hair back then, not to mention that we fought Orlesians instead of… monsters,” Howe stated.

  
Bryce laughed, “at least the smell will be the same!” It seems like they’re no longer talking business. Guin sighed as she opened the door. Immediately, her father turned to her, his smile widening.

  
“I’m sorry pup, I didn’t see you there,” Bryce said in greeting before turning back to Howe, “Howe, you remember my daughter?”

  
The Arl nodded and smiled as he looked her up and down, “it seems she has become a lovely young woman. I’m pleased to see you again, my dear.”

  
Guin bowed her head to him, “Likewise, Arl Howe. How is your family? Are they here with you?”

  
“Regretfully, no. Thomas wanted to accompany me but he has duties he must see to and Nathaniel is abroad right now. Maybe next time I’ll bring Thomas along,” Howe answered.

  
“It would be nice to spar with him again. He’s the only person willing to spar with me that uses dual weapons. I was hoping he may have some new moves to show me,” Guin replied. Arl Howe raised his eyebrow, as if what she said was some sort of innuendo. Bryce and Howe exchanged significant glances, like they suspected something more than friendship had developed between Guin and Thomas. Guin hadn’t seen Thomas for a few years and their friendship, while sweet, was short. It wasn’t something she could build anything on, even if she was interested in him. She frowned at Howe and her father, “I’m not looking for an arranged marriage if that’s what you two are thinking.”

  
Howe raised his eyebrows and folded his arms. “Perhaps if I brought Nathaniel around? Maybe he’ll interest you if not Thomas.”

  
“What, are you trying to get them out of the house or something? I’m not hoping to be some kind of entertainment on top of being in an arranged marriage,” Guin replied coolly.

  
Bryce laughed, “I don’t think she’ll be very receptive Howe. My fierce girl has a mind of her own these days. Maker bless her heart.”

  
Howe chuckled humorlessly, “That’s probably because you trained her to fight. How… unique.” Guin scowled at the Arl. She absolutely hated it when people underestimated her.  
“At any rate, Pup, I summoned you for a reason. Fergus and I will be leaving soon, and while we’re gone I’m leaving you in charge of the castle,” Bryce’s voice went from good-natured to serious in the blink of an eye. It always surprised her how quickly the change occurred.

  
“I’m not going with you? But Papa, I can help!” Guin protested.

  
“I’m sure you’d more than prove yourself in battle, Pup, but I can’t let you go. I’m really not willing to deal with your mother if I allow you to come. She’d kill me. Besides, she’s already twisted up in knots about Fergus and me going. Do we really want to make her more upset?” Bryce asked, shuddering as he thought about just how much of a rampage Eleanor would go on if Guin managed to go to war as well.

  
Guin sighed and conceded. As much as standing by and overlooking the castle grated on her nerves, she knew her mother would burn down the kingdom in search of her wayward family. And once she found them, unspeakable atrocities would ensue.

  
Bryce smiled down at her and put a hand to her cheek. “What I’m asking of you is a huge responsibility, Pup. You know that old saying about mice when the cat is away? You’re going to be trying to keep the peace when the soldiers are gone. It’s much harder than it sounds.”

  
“I believe you,” Guin replied, frowning at the thought of the rough weeks ahead. She had learned a great deal about governing from both of her parents, but being put in charge without any help was going to be very difficult.

  
“Good. Also, I have someone you should meet,” her father stated and turned to a guard by the door. “Please, show Duncan in,” he called to the guard, who nodded and turned to open the door.

  
The man that walked in behind the guard was tall and tan-skinned. He had long dark hair that was pulled back into a low ponytail, exposing a gleaming gold earring in his right ear. A dark-haired goatee surrounded a small smile. His sliver armor was polished, the spiraling design gleaming, and the blades attached to his back flashed in the candle light. His gait was long and powerful, that of a highly-experienced warrior. Guin couldn’t watch him without being a little mesmerized.

  
“It is an honor to be within your hall, Teyrn Cousland,” the man said in greeting. His voice was deep and soothing, immediately erasing the angry thoughts Guin still had directed at Howe.

  
“It is an honor to have you here, Duncan,” Bryce replied, smiling broadly and hand landing on Guin’s shoulder. “This is my daughter, Guinevere. She will be watching over the castle in my and Fergus’s absence.” Duncan was able to give her a respectful nod, but was cut off some giving her a greeting by a shocked Arl Howe.

  
“Ah, your Lordship, you didn’t mention that a Grey Warden would be present!” Howe sputtered, seemingly alarmed. Guin studied the Arl to her right carefully. What has he to be worried about? Unsurprisingly, those negative thoughts she had about Howe started to return.

  
“He arrived just recently, unannounced. Is there a problem?” Bryce queried, tilting his head slightly to side in question.

  
“Of course not,” the Arl recovered, “but a guest of this stature demands certain protocol. I am… at a disadvantage…”

  
“And what, pray tell, would that disadvantage be?” Guin quickly asked. Bryce looked at her briefly in surprise and admonition but she ignored him. Something about the appearance of this Duncan had unsettled Howe.

  
He faltered once again before replying with a large frown on his face, “I just wish that I had been more prepared.”

  
“We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that’s true. Pup, Brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?” Bryce asked turning back to his daughter. Guin nodded, eyes slightly wide as she glanced back at the only Grey Warden in the room.

  
“The Grey Wardens are an order of elite warriors that defend the lands against the Blight,” she responded dutifully to her father before glancing curiously again at Duncan. “If you’re here while the darkspawn are rising, you must be looking for recruits.”

  
“Yes, my lady,” Duncan replied and was unable to say more as Bryce asked a question.

  
“Yes, how is your recruiting going? Did you like Ser Gilmore?”

  
Duncan nodded once, eyes shifting quickly to Guin and back again. “Actually, if I may be so bold, I think your daughter would make a promising recruit.”

  
Bryce frowned deeply and stepped between Duncan and Guin, who was frozen in surprise. “Honor though that might be, this is my daughter we’re talking about,” he growled.  
“But… I rather like the idea Papa,” Guin said, taking a step toward her father.

  
The Teyrn looked over his shoulder at her, expression softening. “I have not so many children that I’ll gladly see them off to battle,” he retorted before turning back to Duncan, a challenge in his eyes, “unless you wish to invoke the Right of Conscription?”

  
“Have no fear. While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I will not force the issue,” Duncan replied graciously, backing down from the issue as he had said. Bryce accepted this and stepped back to the dais where the Teyrn’s and Teyrna’s thrones sat and turned back to his daughter. Guin, however, frowned. If she were to become a Grey Warden, she’d be able to fight alongside her father and brother.

 

“Pup, can you ensure that Duncan’s requests are seen to while I’m gone?” her father asked.

  
Guin sighed and nodded as she said, “yes Papa.”

  
Bryce smiled warmly at her. “That’s my dear girl. In the meantime, however, find Fergus and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me.”

  
“I… Of course, Papa,” she answered. Turning to Howe, she nodded as she said, “I wish you and your men luck, Arl Howe.”

  
He sputtered in surprise as he retorted, “I, thank you… it is most unnecessary, however.”

  
With that, Guin nodded once to Duncan and turned and left the way she came. Once out in the corridor, she sighed. That did not go quite the way she wanted it. She didn’t know when next she’d get a chance to prove she was more than just some pretty face and a title. Grumbling quietly to herself, she headed down the corridor and made to turn right, heading upstairs, when she almost ran right into a red-headed, well-built knight.

  
“My Lady!” He said in surprise as they both stopped just short of running bodily into each other.

  
“Ser Gilmore!” Guin exclaimed upon seeing his face. Ser Gilmore was a few years older than she was but he’d been around the Couslands his entire life. His father before him was a guard here at the castle so Gilmore went through combat training at a young age. Guin and he had practically grown up together, and were very close. He was the last of four people at Castle Cousland that didn’t doubt her fighting abilities. “What… what are you--?”

  
“I was looking for you actually. Your mother told me the Teyrn had summoned you and I didn’t want to interrupt,” Gilmore replied. Guin raised her eyebrows at him and he blushed slightly. “Ha! Pardon my abruptness, my lady. It’s simply that I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  
“Ok, why is it that you were looking everywhere for me?” Guin asked, cocking her head to the side.

  
“I fear your hound has the kitchen in an uproar again…” Gilmore answered, frowning. Guin sighed. She knew when she told Ares to go play that he’d go directly to the damn kitchens and mess with Nan.

  
“Did he get into the larder again?” she sighed in exasperation.

  
“Yes, my lady. Nan is… well she’s threatening to leave,” the knight stated.

 

Guin rolled her eyes in reply. “She’s always saying that, Gilmore. Besides, she was my nanny long before she was the cook, she won’t leave.”

  
Gilmore sighed and shrugged, “Your mother insists you collect him, and quickly. You know mabari hounds. They don’t listen to anyone but their masters, and everyone else will get a hand bitten off.”

  
“Ares knows not to do that,” Guin retorted. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t like the taste of human flesh.”

  
Gilmore lifted his hands, “I’m not really willing to test that. I quite like my hands, thank you.”

  
Guin smiled as she nodded her head, “Alright then, duty calls I guess.” And with that, she and Gilmore headed off to the kitchens. The closer they got, the louder the screams and yells from the kitchen became. Oh, Ares has really outdone himself this time. She’d never heard screams and yells quite like these before. This was a whole new level of chaos. Guin groaned as she opened the door and stepped inside.

  
The kitchen was an absolute mess. Pots were upturned, sauces were splattered across the walls, and various parts of food were scattered across the surfaces. When Nan heard the door opening, she spun around, her eyes crazed. “Your bloody hound is ruining my larder!!” she screeched, her elven workers shying away in fear. She had a spoon in her hand that she waved around frantically, more sauce splattering the walls.

  
“Look, I’m really sorry Nan, I’ve told him repeatedly not to— “

  
“JUST GET THE BLOODY DOG OUT OF MY LARDER!!”

  
Without letting herself be surprised at her tone, Guin immediately did as she was told and headed to the larder. Ares was barking up a storm on the other side of the door. When she opened to wooden door, Ares spun around to see her, barking at her all the while, then spun back around and growled. She stepped into the larder, Gilmore right behind her, eyeing her dog in confusion.

  
“Ares? What’s going on boy, what have you found?” she asked and the mabari turned its head at her and barked then turned back and growled once again.

  
Suddenly, five giant rats exploded through a hole in the corner of the floor. Instantly, Ares sprang into action, scooping up one of the rats and crushing it in his maw. Guin was right behind him and pulled out her sword and dagger, slicing and dicing any rat that came her way. Gilmore had whipped out his sword and shield, beheading the beasts that launched at him. After the first five were dead, more spilled out. Guin growled and continued to stab and slash until the only thing left of the rats were their bleeding corpses.  
“What the hell are giant ass rats doing in the larder?!” Guin growled, sheathing her blades. She’d have to clean them once she got back to her room later in the evening.  
Gilmore took a breath, “We probably shouldn’t tell Nan. It would upset her.”

  
“If she doesn’t know about it, more will come. She needs to know Ser Gilmore,” she said tiredly and stalked out of the larder to where Nan and her two elven helpers stood.

  
“You get the dog out?” Nan demanded and as if on cue, Ares trotted out with a rat corpse in his mouth. Nan spluttered and took several steps back, almost landing her in the fire place.

  
“You really should be thanking Ares for finding the problem as quickly as he did,” Guin stated, putting her hand on Ares’ head, who grunted in pride. “Anyway, there is a real nasty mess in the larder that needs to be cleaned up. Someone should get on that.” And with that, Guin and Ares left the kitchen followed by Gilmore as he apologized to Nan.

  
“Oh! Lady Cousland, might I have another word?” Gilmore asked, catching up to her. Guin nodded as she turned to him, blue eyes questioning. “I heard there was a Grey Warden here. Is that true?”

  
“Yes, his name is Duncan. Why?” Guin inquired.

  
“Well… was he asking about me?”

  
“Yeah he was. I think he’s hoping to test you to see if you’re worthy of becoming a Grey Warden,” she replied.

  
A smile broke out on the knight’s face as he exclaimed, “Really? I… I can’t believe it!! To be a Grey Warden… it’s a dream come true!” Guin smiled at him, trying her damndest to hold in her giggles. She’d never actually seen this stoic knight get so emotional before. He seemed to notice her expression and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Might not even happen, right?” Gilmore asked and looked at the ground, his eyes distant as if in thought.

  
“You sell yourself short, Gilmore. You’re an excellent warrior and the Grey Wardens would be lucky to have you,” Guin reassured. After all, he was one of her sparring partners so she’d know exactly how capable he was with a sword and shield. Gilmore smiled warmly at her for the compliment, but before he could thank her, she said, “Well, I’ll have to leave you. My father has asked me to find my brother and speak to him. Good luck with Duncan, Gilmore.” She smiled at the knight she’d known for nearly her whole life. He bowed slightly to her and muttered a thank you before they parted ways.

  
As Guin rounded the corner that would lead her to the Cousland’s living quarters, she ran right into her mother, who was socializing with some visitors to the castle; a woman who looked about her mother’s age, a young man and a young elven woman, near her own age. As she approached – albeit much more cautiously than before – her mother turned to her.

  
“Ah there is my dear daughter,” Eleanor began, turning to Guin and giving her a warm smile, until she laid eyes on Ares. “Well, I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound of yours that the situation in the kitchens was handled?”

  
Ares whined at Eleanor, not liking being thought of as ‘troublesome.’ Guin sighed and pat her loyal dog on the head before looking back at her mother, “actually mama, Ares was defending the larder from an invasion of rats. You should be thanking him.” She had to try very hard to keep a smirk off her face when the young man’s eyes nearly popped out of his head and a disgusted frown appeared on the older woman’s face.

  
Eleanor sighed at her daughter’s tact. “Well, I hope that dinner will be edible…” she muttered, looking away from her guests.

  
“Don’t worry mama, the rats only showed themselves once Ser Gilmore and I arrived. They didn’t do any damage to the food in there so dinner should be fine. And Nan wouldn’t put contaminated food on our dinner table,” Guin stated with a cheery smile. Her mother rolled her eyes at her daughter, knowing full well the smile was for show.

  
“Guin, you remember my dear friend, Lady Landra, the wife of Bann Loren?” Eleanor asked, deftly switching topics. Guin slightly raised her eyebrow at her before turning to address the woman next to her mother.

  
“I believe we’ve met once before…” Guin said, trying to place her.

  
“We last met at your mother’s spring salon,” Lady Landra offered.

  
“Of course, it’s good to see you again, my Lady,” Guin smiled in recognition and nodded. She figured it would be in poor taste to recall out loud just how drunk Landra had been that evening. She’d already embarrassed her mother enough for one day.

  
Landra laughed, “you are too kind, dear girl. I seem to remember spending the entire night trying to convince you to marry my son.” When she said ‘son,’ she indicated the young man standing between her and Guin. The youngest Cousland swiftly glanced at him and blushed slightly. This was really awkward.

  
“And made a very poor case of it, I might add,” the man stated. Wow, and now an awkward situation just got more awkward.

  
“You remember my son, Dairren? He’s not married yet, either,” Landra suggested with a hint of a smirk. Guin inwardly groaned. She was quite tired of arranged marriage offers. She’d already had three in the past hour… that might just be a new record.

  
“Don’t listen to her. It’s good to see you again, my lady. You’re looking as beautiful as ever,” Dairren said, bowing his head slightly.

  
“Uh… thank you,” Guin replied, cheeks pinking just slightly again. Now she wanted nothing more than to get away and find her brother.

  
“This is my lady-in-waiting, Iona,” Landra said indicating the young elven woman standing behind Dairren. Iona only nodded slightly but said nothing, looking like a trapped animal. Landra, clearly exasperated, demanded, “Do say something dear!”

  
Iona glanced apologetically at Lady Landra and then looked back at Guin. “It is a great pleasure, my lady. You are as pretty as your mother describes.”

  
“And she says that after seeing you whacking away at stuffed men in the courtyard, sweating like a mule,” her mother stated, chidingly. Guin gave her mother a pointed look. Eleanor just had to get her dig in.

  
Guin had been training in the courtyard before she’d gone out to draw. That’s why she had been wearing her light silverite armor while she sketched. Normally, she wouldn’t go out in her armor to sit atop that hill and draw. Usually, she either wore a dress or the comfortable clothes she wore under her armor.

  
“Your daughter’s prowess with the blade is most impressive,” Dairren defended.

  
Guin flashed a smile at him. Compliments on her beauty made her shy, but compliments about her fighting skills? Bring them on. “Why thank you very much Dairren,” she practically purred, causing Dairren to flush slightly. Yes, that’s right mother, I’m a fighter whether you like it or not.

  
Eleanor smirked at her daughter, “I was quite the battle maiden myself, in my day. But I think it was the softer arts that helped me to land a husband.”

  
Guin sighed. Well played, mama. It was probably best to step out of the conversation as soon as possible. “Papa has asked me to find Fergus. May I go now?”

  
“Yes, Guin. We wouldn’t want you to keep your father or your brother waiting, right?” Eleanor replied with a small, knowing smile.

  
“I think I perhaps shall rest now. I will see you all at supper?” Lady Landra stated. Eleanor and Dairren nodded and she excused herself.

  
“Perhaps we will retire to the study for now,” Dairren offered, addressing Iona. She nodded and they turned to leave after bidding Eleanor and Guin a good day.  
“Well Guin, you’ve effectively driven off another suitor,” the Teyrna remarked, turning to her daughter.

  
Guin frowned. “Mama, we’ve had this conversation. You know how I feel about arranged marriages…”

  
“Yes, yes, you’ll only marry for love. What, do you think Bryce and I don’t love each other? How do you think we met?” Eleanor asked. Guin scowled and looked away from her mother. Eleanor huffed, “Bryce courted me, like many men try to court you. That’s how it works!”

  
Guin looked back up at her mother, a challenge in her eyes. “Mama... You’ll know when I’m ready for marriage.”

  
“Well, I just hope you get married and have children before I die. I’d like to meet your babies one day you know,” Eleanor stated, eyes going soft and smiling as she put her hand to her daughter’s cheek. “Now, go talk to your brother.”

  
Guin nodded, “Yes, mama.”

  
With that, Eleanor nodded and left to join Bryce in the main hall so Guin was free to continue looking for Fergus. She headed to his room in the living quarters and knocked once upon arrival. When she heard a ‘come in’ she turned the knob and stepped inside.

  
Immediately, her four-year-old nephew bounded up to her, waving a wooden sword Fergus had made for him for his birthday, and exclaimed, “Auntie Guin!! Papa says he’ll bring me back a real sward!!”

  
“I’m sure it will be the best sword ever made, Oren,” Guin cooed as she knelt and hugged the little boy.

  
“Here’s my little sister to see me off!” Fergus exclaimed. Guin stood and smiled at her brother. Beside him, his wife, Oriana, looked as if she had been crying. Her eyes were red and puffy, full cheeks a ruddy pink. Fergus looked back at his wife and beckoned her to him, “come my love, dry your eyes. I’ll be back home before you know it.”

  
“You sound awfully confident, brother,” Guin said, chidingly. Fergus chuckled at her.

  
“From what I hear, the battles with the darkspawn have all gone very well. These upcoming battles that I’ll be a part of should be no different,” he replied.

  
Guin sighed. Her brother was still the energetic, excited puppy he’d always been. “Just… don’t lower your guard alright?”

  
Fergus grew serious and he put a hand on her shoulder. “Of course, dear sister. I will not let you down.”

  
“That’s good to know. Did you by any chance know there was a Grey Warden in the castle?” Guin asked. Fergus and Oriana both raised their eyebrows in surprise. Oren, however, gasped in excitement.

  
“Did he ride in on a Griffon?!” the child exclaimed. Guin and Fergus both laughed slightly as Oriana said, “my dear Griffons are only in the legends.”

  
“He did have a griffon on his shield, Oren. So, you can say that he came with one,” Guin reasoned, smiling brightly at her nephew, who jumped around in excitement. He was so much like Fergus. Guin sighed sadly as she looked once more at her older brother. “You will be greatly missed, Fergus. I wish I could go with you.”

  
“I wish you could come as well, dear sister. You’d be a great help. And if it’s any consolation, I’m sure I’ll freeze in the southern rain while you are here nice and warm,” Fergus chuckled. Oriana rolled her eyes at her husband but an amused smile stayed on her lips.

  
“That still doesn’t change the fact that I could do more help in Ostagar with you and father than here at home,” Guin mumbled, frowning.

  
“In Antiva, it was unthinkable if a woman fought,” Oriana commented. Guin had to hold back her glare. There was a reason she didn’t ever want to go to Antiva.

  
“But my love, I thought Antivan women were dangerous!” Fergus exclaimed.

  
Oriana smirked at her husband, and raised a playful blond eyebrow. “Only with kindness and poison, my husband.”

  
Fergus’s eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up, a large smile on his face as he turned back to his sister. “And this from the woman who serves my tea!” They shared a laugh.  
“Fergus, I should probably tell you this now. I’m sure you’re aware that Howe’s men have been delayed?” she asked and her brother nodded. “Well, Papa wanted me to tell you to go ahead and leave for Ostagar without him. He wants to ride with Howe and his men when they arrive tomorrow.”

  
“You’d think those soldiers are walking backwards,” Fergus muttered with a sigh. He looked at his wife and son and smiled at them. “I guess I’d better get on my way then. So many darkspawn to kill and so little time!” he laughed. Oriana gave him a stern look, eyes sad. He knelt to his son’s level and brought the boy into his arms. “I’ll miss you, son.” He stood up once more and turned fully to his wife, whose sad eyes now held unshed tears once again.

  
“My love…” Oriana said and embraced her husband.

  
Guin couldn’t hear the words exchanged between the two and honestly didn’t want to know. Instead she knelt next to Oren, Ares moving up beside her and sniffing the boy. Oren laughed and put a small hand on the dog’s massive head. Ares made a contented noise similar to a hum and licked Oren’s happy face.  
“Ares won’t be going away like Papa, will he?” Oren asked.

  
Guin smiled at the boy, mussing up his hair. “No, Ares stays with me. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if I wasn’t around,” she said and Ares smiled and nuzzled her.  
“I love you my dear,” Fergus said as he pulled away from his wife. “I’ll be back before you know it."

  
“I know my only son wasn’t thinking about leaving without telling his parents farewell?” called her father as he entered the chamber.

  
Fergus turned to them and smiled, “Mother, Father, I was just about to come looking for you.”

  
“Be well, my son. I will pray for your safe return every day you are gone,” Eleanor said sadly.

  
“He will be fine, right Fergus?” Guin asked.

  
“Of course, like I said, we’ll be back here before you know it! But Guin, you’ll look after mother while we’re gone?” Fergus inquired.

  
Guin eyed Eleanor, smiling slightly, “she’s always been able to handle herself."

  
Fergus laughed, looking back at Eleanor, “It’s true! They should be sending you to Ostagar, not me! You’d scold those darkspawn all the way back into the Deep Roads!”

  
Eleanor frowned at the two of them, ever the disciplinarian. “I’m glad you find this so funny.”

  
“Enough you two,” Bryce chuckled. “Pup, you might want to have an early night. You’ll have plenty to do tomorrow when I leave.”

  
“I wasn’t really very hungry anyway,” Guin sighed. She wanted to forget about her duties while Fergus and Bryce were gone. But the castle needed to be run and Bryce trusted her to do it in his absence. “Good night everyone. Fergus, you and Papa better come back safe.” She demanded as she hugged him. Fergus smiled at her, obviously not truly taking the threat seriously. Guin turned to her father and hugged him goodbye before nodding goodnight to the rest of her family.

  
“Hey Guin!” Fergus called as she crossed the hall. Guin turned and looked at him questioningly before he jibed, “don’t burn the castle down while I’m gone!” She glared at him in response and stuck her tongue out before stomping to her room and shutting the door much louder than necessary. Ares was just barely able to slip into her bedroom before the door shut. He looked up at her a little annoyed.

  
“Sorry, Ares,” Guin sighed as she unbuckled her armor. One of the servants had set up a basin full of rose water in the corner of her room and Guin gladly gave herself a sponge bath. She hated going to sleep feeling grimy and sweaty.

  
After her sponge bath, Guin donned a light-weight night gown that reached her ankles. Summer was just setting in, so Highever felt a little hot and humid – thanks to being so close to the ocean. Her room was on the east side of castle, so it was wonderfully cool in the summer, but a little too cold in the winter.

  
The sun was just starting to descend in the sky, dusk turning the sky pink and purple and orange. In the distance, she heard the horns of the Highever army disembarking. It would normally take several days to get to Ostagar. The plan was to march through the night and continue into the next day. They’d be almost halfway to the ancient ruin by noon tomorrow. It would be lonely for many in Highever with their soldiers gone and Guin hoped it wouldn’t be a long absence.

  
As she settled herself under the covers, Ares curled up on the rug at foot of her bed, head facing the door. He was always protective of her, and it gave her the peace to easily fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment and kudos!


	3. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guin awakes in the middle of the night to chaos and destruction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 3! Enjoy!

Guin woke to snarling, growling, and barking. Confused, she sat up slowly and glared down at her dog before looking out the window. The sun wasn’t even close to rising. It couldn’t be past one in the morning!

  
“I swear to the Maker, Ares…” Guin hissed. Ares turned to her and continued to bark before spinning back to the door and growling. Ok, generally when Ares acted like this, he had a damn good reason. “Alright boy, what’s going on?” she asked groggily, standing from her bed and stretching.

  
That’s when she heard the screams outside her door. Guin froze, arms still raised in the air from stretching, and stared at her door in shock. What the hell is going on?

  
Ares brought her back to reality by barking and nudging her. Immediately, she started to gather the lightweight linen garments she wore under her armor and her hardened leather armor. She was just about to take her night gown off when her door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud bang. Ares leapt back to avoid getting hit, but stood his ground in front of Guin.

  
“My lady, the castle is under attack--!” the servant who threw her door open exclaimed, but was cut off by a dagger being shoved through his chest. Guin jumped, eyes wide as the body slumped to the floor.

  
The man standing in the doorway pointed the bloody dagger at her, and leered. His armor was splattered with blood, but she could still see Howe’s emblem emblazoned on the chest plate. Guin’s eyes widened further, her mind unable to comprehend the situation at hand.

  
“Hey guys! I found the Teyrn’s daughter!” the soldier called over his shoulder, eyes never leaving the unarmed Cousland. After a few seconds, two more men joined the first in the doorway, both with equally disturbing leers directed at her. One of them had a bow in his hand and a quiver of arrows strapped to his back. The other had an Amaranthine shield that he locked into place on his back and moved to put his sword away as well. Both of the newcomers were just as splattered with blood as the first was.

  
The three soldiers moved into the room but Ares growled dangerously from his defensive position in front of Guin. The men stopped suddenly when they noticed the dog’s presence.

  
“A mabari, huh?” The dual weaponist laughed and then lunged at the dog. Ares dodged then leaped bodily onto the soldier, ripping apart his armor. The archer and the soldier with the shield moved to get Ares off their companion, but Guin launched herself at the archer, knocking him off balance. Before she could do more damage, the soldier with the shield bashed her away. She fell to the ground with a cry, her back searing in a pain for a moment.

  
Guin was unable to get back to her feet as the archer leapt on top of her, straddling her waist. She took a swing at him but he caught her fist and backhanded her. “You’re going to pay for messing up my shot,” he hissed. Her cheek was swelling where he’d hit her, but she was far from giving up. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and was able to land a hit on the archer’s face. In retaliation, he forced his knee into her gut, driving the air from her lungs. The pain paralyzed her as she gasped to fill her lungs, which refused to allow any air in. While she was stunned, the archer proceeded to tear at her nightgown.

  
“Get off my daughter, you son of a bitch!!” screamed a shrill voice from the hallway, and suddenly an arrow pierced the archer’s throat. Both Guin and the archer had surprised expressions, until he collapsed on top of her. Guin grunted as she tried to shift the armored body off of her. There was the sound of a scuffle and thud as an armored body hit the stone floor. Panic rose in Guin’s chest. Had her rescuer just been killed? Were they the one that hit the floor? She struggled harder against the dead weight pinning her to the floor without much success, until it was suddenly shoved off.

  
Eleanor Cousland stood above her daughter, eyes worried and silverite armor covered in gore. Guin was stunned. She knew her mother used to fight when she was a maiden, but she had never actually seen her mother wear armor, let alone bloody. “Mama?”

  
Eleanor gave her a small smile and helped her up. “You need to put your armor on. The castle is under attack.”

  
“By Howe’s men, yes,” Guin replied, anger coursing through her. The men that had just attacked her were his soldiers. Now they were lying in pools of blood that would certainly stain the stone floor. But that couldn’t be helped now. Ares stood by them, watching carefully for any sign of movement, as if they would rise from the dead and attack again. His maw and front paws were bloody from the fight, making him look much more ferocious than usual.

  
“You saw Howe earlier today, with your father, right? Do you have any idea why he would attack the castle?” Eleanor asked as Guin pulled her under armor clothes on.  
“No, Howe was just telling Papa that his soldiers were delayed because of rain— “Guin answered, but cut herself off, eyes going wide with realization. “Howe’s men weren’t delayed! He was waiting for Papa to send Fergus away with our soldiers!! That bastard!!”

  
“But why?! After all these years of friendship, why would he suddenly turn on us?” Eleanor’s voice strained with emotion as she asked. After all, Howe and Bryce had fought side by side against the Orlesians. They’d helped win back Ferelden, forged a relationship that was bound with the blood of many. For one to turn on the other, it was one of the worst kinds of betrayal.

  
Guin paused, hands holding the straps of her breastplate tight but not buckling them. She looked at her mother, anger boiling in her, and replied, “I don’t know, Mama, but he will not get away with this.”

  
Her words seemed to embolden Eleanor, eyes blazing with her fury. “You’re right Guin, he will not, but we won’t be able to get vengeance here. We have to find your father and get to Ostagar, to Fergus.”

  
“Wait, Papa wasn’t with you? Where is he?” Guin demanded, quickly finishing buckling her breastplate in place.

  
“He hadn’t come to bed when the attack started. You must hurry, he could be anywhere in the castle!” Eleanor ordered. Guin didn’t have to be told twice. As fast as possible, she forced on her boots and gauntlets, strapping a bow and a quiver of arrows to her back and buckling her sword and dagger to each side.

  
Her mother was standing just outside the door, making sure no soldiers caught them off guard. Guin moved to join her, but she hadn’t taken one step out of her room when Ares bounded out, barking desperately. He barely had enough time to stop before he ran head-first into the door on the opposite side of the hallway, where Oriana and Oren were supposed to be sleeping. Dread clutched Guin’s stomach and she sprinted after her mabari.

  
He was whining and scratching at the door, as if he could dig his way through the thick mahogany. Guin reached the door and had to shove Ares out of the way so she could open it without hurting him.

  
The room was dark, but the light from the hallway barreled into the room, showing a scene Guin fervently wished wasn’t there. There was a dead Amaranthine soldier by the door, foam coming from his mouth and blood pouring from a single wound. However, farther into the room lay two more bodies, and one too small to be an adult. Oriana’s head faced Guin, eyes unseeing and mouth agape. A dagger lay a few inches from her fingertips, dripping a liquid onto the floor that had mixed with the blood on the blade. Oren lay off to the side of her, as if his mother had tried to shove him behind her. In his right hand, he was clutching the wooden sword Fergus had given him.

  
Guin was paralyzed, shock shutting down her body. She couldn’t even let out the scream that was trapped in her chest. Eleanor came up behind her, a strangled cry escaping her lips, “Oh Maker! Oriana, Oren!!” She rushed into the room and fell to her knees between the two, hands reaching for them but stopping short. “Howe’s not even taking prisoners! He means to destroy the whole Cousland line!!” she wailed.

  
“How are we going to tell Fergus? This would kill him,” Guin managed to gasp out, the gathered tears finally falling. Ares whined and nudged her hand. She looked down at him, but he wasn’t facing her, he was watching the hallway. He’d heard something. It didn’t take more than a few seconds before she could hear them too; boots slamming against stone. She whirled back toward her mother, grabbing her arm and yanking her up. “We have to go!”

  
They ran toward the door that led to the rest of the castle, hoping they wouldn’t run into any soldiers by themselves. No such luck, of course. There were four soldiers on the other side of the door, one archer, one dual weaponist, and two swordsmen. The second the door was opened, fighting started. Guin spun away from the door, knowing they’d try to use it as a choke point. Her mother had her bow armed and was firing at the soldiers at will. Ares had gone to attack the archer on the other side of the room, growls louder than the din of clashing metal. Drawing her sword and dagger, Guin rushed at the other dual weaponist, striking in a flurry of metal and long dark hair. Fury drove her on: the vision of Oren and Oriana lying dead on the floor was still very fresh in her mind and she didn’t stop fighting until every last Amaranthine soldier was lying dead on the floor as well.

  
She stood in the center of the room, panting, and staring in disbelief at the carnage she’d just wrought. Not that it wasn’t well deserved; it’s just that Guin had never killed another human being before tonight. Her stomach churned and she would have upended the contents all over the dead soldiers had her mother’s hand not fallen on her shoulder.

  
“It’s alright dear, this was necessary. But come, we must find your father,” Eleanor stated soothingly, nodding toward the door. Guin gave her own half-hearted nod and followed her mother out of the living quarters and down the hall, walking cautiously.

  
Her mother seemed so calm and confident. Hadn’t she just killed her first human? She knew exactly where to aim her arrows to hit the armor at its weakest point and which enemies to fell first. Guin remembered Eleanor saying something about being a ‘battle maiden’ when she was younger, but it never sunk in. Eleanor had always been the graceful Teyrna and stern and loving mother to Guin. But now, seeing how she fought, Guin realized her mother must have helped King Maric’s troops against the Orlesians. Her mother had actual experience in battle, more than most women ever see.

  
Before they could reach the main floor, Eleanor stopped and turned sharply to her daughter, eyes determined. “Guin, if the castle is overrun before we can find your father, I need you to promise me that you’ll leave through the servants’ entrance in the larder. You must live through this, find your brother, and tell him what has happened. Do you understand?”

  
The look in her mother’s eyes was so fierce, and yet so desperate, that Guin couldn’t find it in her to refuse. She wanted her family to get out of this alive, and if that wasn’t possible, she wanted to stay and fight – even if that meant certain death. But a request like this? Guin sighed, “If it comes to that, I promise I’ll escape.” Eleanor smiled and put a hand to Guin’s cheek affectionately before setting off down the hallway once again. Guin followed, thinking to herself that she wouldn’t let that scenario happen. She couldn’t leave her parents to die.

  
“HELP!!!” screamed a voice from around the corner and immediately, Guin rushed forward, bow out and an arrow notched. Suddenly, one of the castle staff ran in front of the corridor and turned to run up it. Upon seeing Guin and Eleanor, he froze in surprise. “Teryna Cousland! My lady! You’re alive!!” he gasped, brown eyes wide and frantic.  
“Are you alright?” Guin asked, approaching the terrified man.

  
“I – yes I am, but we are under attack!!” he exclaimed.

  
Eleanor sighed, “yes, we are aware. Have you seen the Teyrn?”

  
The man frowned and shook his head before blurting, “I’m not hanging around here a moment longer!” He turned tail and ran as fast as he could, hopefully, for an exit.  
“Jeez, what happened to men defending the helpless damsels?” Guin muttered.

  
“We’re both well-armed my dear. I’d hardly call us helpless,” Eleanor replied, notching an arrow in her bow and advancing to the end of the corridor. In both directions, Howe’s soldiers were engaging Highever guards. Eleanor and Guin hid behind the walls of the corridor.

  
“I’m going to help the guards to the right. Why don’t you go help the ones to the left?” Guin offered.

  
Eleanor frowned slightly, “that will split us up, and I’m not carrying any close-range weapons.”

  
“Ares will go with you. That way, if an Amaranthine soldier comes at you, you won’t be helpless,” Guin replied after a moment of thought.

  
“What about you?” Eleanor asked.

  
Guin indicated her dagger and sword strapped to her sides. “They won’t catch me off guard and defenseless again.” She nodded to her mother before swinging out of cover, bowstring pulled back and taught. She aimed for the throat of an Amaranthine soldier that had teamed up with some fellows and ganged up on a poor Highever guard. The man was fending off three opponents and didn’t look like he’d last much longer. She exhaled and released the string. The arrow whizzed through the air, whistling as it closed in on its target. A second later, there was a gasp and a thud as the arrow hit its mark, felling the soldier.

  
Guin hadn’t watched the arrow hit the target, she’d already moved onto the next unsuspecting soldier, who had been distracted by the sudden loss of a comrade, before falling to the ground beside him. The Highever guard, now finding the field even, quickly slew the remaining soldier.

  
Once that fight was over, Guin spun around to help her mother and Ares just as they were spinning to help her. Ares stood over two mabari hounds, tail wagging slightly and tongue lolling out. He bounded up to her, happy to know she was uninjured.

  
“Good boy Ares! You protected Mama!” Guin cooed, kneeling and rubbing Ares’ ears. He hummed happily before turning back to Eleanor, eyes hopeful. He obviously didn’t want to be troublesome anymore.

  
Eleanor smiled at him and pat his head, “yes, you did well, Ares.”

  
The guards they’d managed to save – only two, sadly – came jogging up to the trio, eyes surprised. “Teyrna Cousland, my lady! You’re both alive! I thought for sure you’d be dead after those soldiers got through…” the guard on the right frowned as he trailed off. He had brown hair, lightly tanned skin – most likely from being outside during long periods of time training – and was taller than the other guard. The second guard was shorter, but broader than the other one. He had dark red hair, light blue eyes, and a large axe strapped to his back.

  
The second guard bowed his head slightly, mouth downturned as he said, “we apologize. Those soldiers never should have gotten by us.”

  
“Nonsense. It’s not your fault, both of you were outnumbered. Besides, Howe knew Fergus was taking our troops to Ostagar and that we’d be vulnerable tonight. No, Howe is to blame for this,” Guin stated adamantly. Both guards gave her grateful smiles.

  
“Have either of you seen the Teyrn?” Eleanor hurriedly asked.

  
“Yes, my lady. Follow us, we’ll take you to him!” the tall guard exclaimed before turning and darting off down the hall.

  
“He was in the Great Hall when the fighting started. Ser Gilmore was there, I think,” the second explained as they dashed through the corridor.

  
“Ser Gilmore is still alive?” Relief flooded through Guin. If Ser Gilmore was in the Great Hall, he’d have made sure her father made it out alive.

  
The group ran into two more bands of Howe soldiers, killing them as quickly as possible. They were running by a corridor when Eleanor stopped in her tracks.

  
“Wait, Guin! The treasury is down this way. The Cousland sword is locked inside, we must keep it out of the hands of Howe and his men!” she exclaimed before running down the stone corridor. Guin sighed and followed her, wondering if wasting time on a sword was good idea when every minute counted.

  
They reached the door quickly and Eleanor unlocked it before running over to the vault door. “Mama, is this sword so important? What about papa?”

  
“The Cousland family sword is enchanted, Guin. If Howe got his hands on it…” Eleanor trailed off as she turned the key to the vault, stepping inside and up to weapon rack with a gleaming silverite sword. Guin approached the rack quickly to examine the blade. The Cousland crest was engraved on the hilt and the handle had the words, ‘Honorem Debitum Imperdiet’ – which meant honor, duty, family – engraved in gold. It was a beautiful sword and oddly lightweight when Guin took it from the rack. Once in her hands, flames sprang to life along the blade, bright red and blazing in intensity.

  
“We would be in trouble…” Guin finished, lifting her gaze from the blade to her mother. She lifted the sword to her mother, who shook her head.

  
“Keep it, you are truly gifted with blades. That sword would be more useful to you than it would to me,” she said. Guin was floored, brows springing up into her hairline. She’s never said anything like that, never said one word of appreciation of my abilities before… she thought astounded. Eleanor smiled, lifting a hand to her daughter’s cheek. “Though I may have wished for you to be a proper young lady, I have always known that you possess a warrior’s spirit. How could you not with the parents that you have?” There was a sparkle in her green eyes, sharp and bright and fierce. “Now let’s go find your father.”

  
Guin nodded, jaw muscles clenching, fists curling as she removed the sword strapped to her back and replaced it with the Cousland sword. They were out the door to the treasury and approaching the doors to the great hall within moments. The sounds of battle were loudest here. Eleanor gripped her bow, nodding to Guin before throwing the door open.

  
Ares dashed in just ahead of Guin, loosing a howl as he threw himself into combat. Guin was at his flank, but broke away from the main group of Highever guards clashing swords against the Amaranthine soldiers. This group had a mage, which was tilting the odds in Amaranthine’s favor. Dispatch the mage first, then deal with whoever was left. The mage saw her coming however and moved to cast some sort of spell in her direction. Guin dove to the floor, used her momentum to roll back to her feet and slash at the woman. Surprise flitted across the mage’s face before she fell, blood gushing from the gash at her chest.

  
Spinning away from the fallen mage, Guin dashed back into the main fray, hoping to help the guards dispatch the last of the soldiers. Eleanor was by the dais where the thrones were seated, rapidly firing arrows at the invaders. Ares had pinned a soldier to the ground, jaws snapping about the man’s neck, his screams turning into bloody gurgles. Ser Gilmore was battling two well armored knights simultaneously and Guin rushed to his aid.

  
Her world narrowed down to the battle: slash, parry, duck, thrust, spin. Blood splattered her armor, stained her lightly tanned skin. Her fiery blade caused fear in most of the soldiers she fought, which gave her a few seconds advantage in each skirmish. Finally, the last soldier fell, leaving Guin breathing hard in armor, blood dripping from her blades.

  
“Your Grace, my Lady! You’re alive!” Gilmore exclaimed as he jogged up to the two women. The guards that were left ran to the massive door to the Great Hall to hold it closed. It sounded as if a battering ram were pounding against the heavy oaken door. “I thought for sure they had gotten through!”

  
“They did get through, Ser Gilmore,” Guin replied bitterly, fists tightening on the hilts of her blades.

  
“They… Howe’s men killed Oriana and Oren,” Eleanor replied quietly, grief shadowing her eyes.

  
Gilmore blanched, pain entering his blue eyes. “Maker… I’m so sorry your Grace, if we had been more vigilant— “

  
“Gilmore, this is Howe’s doing, not yours,” Eleanor stated kindly, resting a hand on the knight’s shoulder. The pained expression did not leave Gilmore’s face, but he nodded.  
“Have you seen my father, Gilmore? We were told he was here,” Guin inquired, looking around for Bryce Cousland.

  
“He was here, but he was determined to find you. He headed to the larder, to the servant’s exit,” Gilmore stated quickly, glancing over at the doors. “You must go to him, I fear the castle will not be ours much longer.”

  
A lump formed in Guin’s throat as she looked from her oldest friend to the doors that were keeping the invaders out. This was it. “Gilmore…” she said, approaching the red headed knight. His gaze fell on her, sadness and determination shining in his eyes. Tears slipped from Guin’s eyes again. He smiled at her, the smile that she had grown up seeing, the one he’d only show her when they were getting into trouble.

  
“Guin, you and your parents must live through this. If Howe will ever come to justice, you must get out of here,” he stated, smile turning sad.

  
“Come with us, Gilmore. The castle will fall with or without you, but we need you,” Guin implored.

  
“I can’t, my Lady. I will not abandon the men. You will be safe if you leave, but you must hurry. Please go!” he replied before dashing to the door to help the others hold it.  
“But—“ Guin started, but her mother grabbed her arm.

  
“Guin, we must go! Didn’t you hear him?” Eleanor pleaded, tugging her daughter’s arm toward the door. “We must find your father and escape!” With one last look at Gilmore and the others, Guin nodded and followed her mother out of the Great Hall.

  
The kitchens weren’t far from the Great Hall, but the corridor leading to the kitchens was teaming with Howe’s men. Ares howled before launching at a soldier. Eleanor had her bow in her hand faster than Guin could blink. She began picking off the soldiers one by one; pinning shot here, crippling shot there. By the time Guin got her blades free and joined the fray, she’d felled two soldiers.

  
The battle haze descended on Guin once again, her field of view narrowed to her opponent. He was a big knight, heavily armored with a strong sword arm. Guin had never fought anyone so big in her life. He was able to stay away from her flaming sword, but even so, his armor made him slow. As long as she could keep dodging his attacks, keep moving, then she could keep fighting. Every dodge, every roll or jump away was followed by a swipe at the man’s legs or body, anywhere looking for a weak spot. After a few stabs at the left side of the knight’s body, Guin noticed him favoring his left leg. She’d pierced his armor on his left thigh, blood gently leaking from the small cut in the steel. She brought her flaming sword around, aiming it again at the left thigh. The heat of the blade melted the frayed metal, cutting into the skin like butter. The man cried out, swinging his sword around to make her back off. A second later, an arrow pierced through the eye slit in the helmet. The man screamed and as he was blinded, Guin dove back in, thrusting the Cousland family sword through the knight’s chest.

  
Pulling the blade from the knight’s chest, Guin looked up and around at the carnage wrought by her mother and Ares. There had been five other soldiers apart from the knight and two archers. The archers had been taken out first, by Eleanor if the arrows piercing their bodies were anything to go by. The other five soldiers had wounds inflicted by Ares and arrows lodged in their flesh. Blood pooled beneath each of them, gathering in the grooves of the stone.

  
“Come, Guin!” Eleanor exclaimed, rushing to the door to the kitchens. Guin followed behind her, getting to the door to the larder just after her. “Bryce?!” She called, looking around before her eyes fell to the form of the teryn. “Oh no! Bryce!” She cried, rushing to his side.

  
“Eleanor? Pup? Thank the Maker you’re both alive!” he said weakly, a smiled curling on his lips. He gasped as he tried to move, the hand holding his side clenching slightly, blood staining his skin.

  
“Papa? What happened? Are you hurt?” Guin asked, kneeling beside him. There was more blood than she had originally thought, staining the yellow of his tunic into deep red.  
“Howe’s soldiers… got me while I was in the Great Hall. It was all I could do to get here,” he gasped.

  
“Why is he doing this? Why would Howe betray us?” Eleanor asked, voice tight.

  
“I don’t know, but he will not get away with it,” Bryce growled. His blue eyes found Guin’s green ones, imploring. “Pup, you must escape, you must live through this so Howe can be brought to justice. I am spent, but you have to survive, carry on the Cousland name.”

  
“But… Papa! We can still go, together! Maybe we can get you to a healer, you’ll be alright,” Guin replied, tears gathering in her eyes.

  
“I don’t think I’ll be able to move, Pup. I’ll only slow you down,” Bryce answered sadly.

  
“Don’t be ridiculous, Bryce, we’re leaving together,” Eleanor stated, hand going to his back as if trying to move him. He cried out, collapsing fully to the floor, hand spasming over the wound in his stomach. “Bryce!”

  
A loud boom, followed by the sound of splintering wood and a crash interrupted them. Guin’s head flew to the door, eyes widening. “They’ve broken down the door,” Bryce said, voice tight with pain. “Please, Pup, you must go and find your brother. Eleanor, take her, get out of here.”

  
“I’m not leaving you, Bryce,” Eleanor replied, her own voice thick with emotion. She turned to Guin, green eyes shining, “but you must go. Remember your promise to me. Go, survive this, and bring Howe to justice. I will hold them off while you make your escape. I’ll kill every soldier that comes through that door.”

  
Guin looked wide eyed at both her parents. I can’t just leave them! Tears rush from her eyes, grief choking her. “But…” she started, hoping to come up with some kind of plan to get them all out. “There must be some way we can all—“

  
“Pup, go… before it’s too late!” Bryce said, voice getting weaker.

  
A sob forced its way from her, crumbling the last of her strength. “I can’t leave you.”

  
Eleanor took her hand and gripped, hard. “You must.” She glanced at Ares, who had been guarding the door. The mabari turned, ears pricked up and a whine escaping his throat. “Take her, boy. Get her out.”

  
Ares gave a nod before closing his jaws around Guin’s free wrist and tugging. She stumbled to her feet, following her war hound. “I love you both so much!” she gasped.  
“And we love you!” Eleanor replied and the last thing Guin saw before she shut the door of the servants’ exit was her mother leaning over her father, gripping her bow in one hand and readying a shot.

  
The passageway was dimly lit by a torch every now and then, but Guin paid them no mind as she sprinted past them, Ares at her heels. He was probably making sure she didn’t turn around and go back. And no matter how much she was tempted to go back, she didn’t. She had promised her parents.  
A door at the end of the passageway opened to reveal the countryside outside the castle, the town just a short ways off. But she was still too close. Quickly, she sprinted to the tree line, breathing ragged from running and crying.

  
Once under the cover of the trees, Guin turned to get one last look at Highever and wished she hadn’t. Screams erupted from the castle and the sky glowed red, reflecting the flames below. She crumbled seeing her home like this, sobs wracking her body and making her unable to move. It took everything in her not to wail, unsure if she was far enough away to not draw unwanted attention from roaming soldiers.

  
Ares whined beside her, nuzzling her. His presence comforted her to a small degree and she was able to collect herself after a while. She had a job to do after all. She had to find Fergus. She had to go to Ostagar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave kudos and comments!


	4. Ostagar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nuala Aeducan and Braden Amell introduced and arrive at Ostagar where they meet Alistair and the other warden recruits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this wasn't updated yesterday! Enjoy!

**Nuala**

Nuala Aeducan sat before the fire, steel grey eyes unseeing. Wrapped up in her own misery, she didn’t notice the world around her. Her hands had stopped polishing her blade as her thoughts drifted to recent events.

Duncan had been kind to let her escape the Deep Roads with him and the other Grey Wardens after her exile. Well, she knew he had expressed an interest in recruiting her to the famous order of warriors, but she had been cast out, left with nothing but the clothes on her back and the weapons Lord Harrowmont had been able to get her. He took in a casteless nobody, not a princess and heir to the dwarven throne. Exiled and cast out, left to die in the Deep Roads.

And for what?! For something she did not do, wrongly accused and denied to defend herself. Her treacherous brother making deals and securing alliances in secret had elegantly put both his older siblings out of the bid for dwarven monarchy. He silenced Trian, the eldest of the three and pinned his death on her. With the alliances he made, he convinced the Assembly to exile her without trial. Exiled into the Deep Roads.

Behlen, his name brought forth a rush of anger, Nuala’s hands tightened on the grip of her blade and the whetstone she used to sharpen it. Behlen was the kin killer. But he underestimated his sister. He believed she’d die in the blasted Deep Roads. He failed to remember the Grey Wardens, still working to find out if the masses of darkspawn gathering on the surface meant another blight. Gorim, her second and most trusted friend, reminded her of her salvation. He had not been allowed to accompany her, and instead was exiled to the surface.

Remembering that small fact, a glimmer of hope fluttered in her chest. Gorim was somewhere up here, and yes, the surface was a big place, but she’d find him. He said something about Denerim before he left. She’d start her search there, when her service to the Grey Wardens was concluded. If it was concluded.

Nuala sighed, lips curling into a frown. Her hand tightened again on the whetstone as she began the rhythmic movements of sharpening her blade once more. The only way to get to Gorim was to survive. And surviving meant she had to have the toughest armor and the sharpest blade and the strongest shield.

A pop from the fire startled the dwarf out of her thoughts. Her head snapped up, eyes flashing to the dancing flames. Through the fire, she could see the mage Duncan had recruited before heading north and leaving them a few days ago. He had been conscripted to save him from the Templars. Nuala didn’t know the whole story, but the man looked almost as defeated as she felt. His blue eyes were downcast and shadowed by the dirty blond hair that hung over his forehead. Worry lines creased his pale skin – which was remarkably paler than hers. His shoulders sagged, as if he had the weight of the world holding them down. Light stubble surrounded his thin lips and chin, running up along his jaw.

Footsteps sounded to Nuala’s right and her gaze shifted to the source of the sound. One of the Grey Wardens that had been in the Deep Roads with Duncan advanced toward the fire, eyeing both her and the mage. He offered them a small smile, dark eyes kind. “It’s time the two of you get some sleep. We’ve got a long walk to Ostagar ahead of us,” he stated.

“Don’t you need help with the watches?” The mage asked, head lifting from what Nuala thought was a perpetually bent position. It was actually the first time she had heard his voice since he’d introduced himself, and she was quite surprised to hear it.

“You needn’t worry about the watches, we’ll keep an eye out. You two get some sleep. We should make it to Ostagar in three days if we keep to a good pace,” the Warden stated before walking back to stand watch. The other two wardens took this as a sign to stretch out on their bedrolls and go to sleep. They would be getting much less sleep than either Nuala or her mage companion.

Obediently, the mage lay back on his bedroll, eyes turned towards the… stars? She couldn’t remember if that’s what she’d heard them called. Nuala bent back over her sword and whetstone. Steel was familiar to her, kept her grounded with the dirt and stone. She wouldn’t admit it, but she was a little afraid of looking up into the nothing called ‘sky.’ If she did, her feet would leave the ground for sure, and she’d never be able to get back down.

“You’re not going to sleep?” a voice asked from across the fire after a few more strokes from her whetstone. Nuala looked up at the mage, whose attention had drifted from the twinkling lights in the sky to study her. Dirty blond hair fell into his eyes when he turned his head, hand coming up to brush the strands out of his face.  
The dwarf frowned at him, grey eyes falling back to the sword and stone. “I’m not tired.”

“Suit yourself, I guess,” he muttered, flopping back down on the bedroll. It was quiet a few more moments, Nuala marginally content in the silence, even though she was steeped in her own thoughts. “So, how did you end up with the wardens?”

Forcing herself not to audibly growl, Nuala continued to sharpen her sword, albeit with more force. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she stated, hoping to convey a tone that brooked no argument.

“Must have been something bad I guess, you have been quiet most of the time I’ve known you,” he replied.

“I could say the same for you, mage,” she answered, venom creeping into her tone now.

“Braden.”

Nuala looked up at the mage, confused at the abrupt subject change. “What?”

“My name. It’s Braden Amell,” he repeated, eyes fixed on the night sky again. Nuala frowned but didn’t say anything, looking back down at her sword. It looked nice and sharp, so she packed up the whetstone and began to polish the steel. “I know we were introduced but since I forgot your name, I’ll forgive you for forgetting mine.”

She paused briefly before answering. Afterall, he was a companion now. It wouldn’t do if he at least didn’t know her name. “Nuala Aeducan.”

Braden nodded, a smile appearing on his face. “I promise I won’t forget your name this time if you don’t forget mine.”

She reciprocated the smile briefly before nodding and replying, “it’s a deal.”

“Alright then, goodnight, Nuala. Don’t stay up too late lost in thought. Those lines your eyebrows are making won’t go away otherwise,” he said before rolling on his side, his back to her and the fire.

Nuala shook her head with a small smile but didn’t respond. Once she finished polishing her sword, she would go to sleep.

 

  **Braden**

Snapping twigs and hushed voices brought Braden out of his sleep. It was still early morning, the sun had yet to burn away the gray mist that lingered. The fire had died down to softly glowing embers. Across the fire from him, the dwarf, Nuala, lay asleep, hand clasped about the hilt of her sword. Her short reddish brown hair framed her round face, strands falling across her closed eyes and cheeks. The voices hadn’t woken her.

He sat up to look around, wondering where the voices were coming from. The other bedrolls were empty, the Grey Wardens that had been occupying them nowhere to be seen.

“Massacred?” came a hushed voice from the trees. The voice seemed shocked, angered, and Braden recognized it as the Grey Warden who took the first watch the night before.

“Yes. They came in the night, attacked the castle. I found Teryn Cousland gravely injured and he sent me away to find his wife and daughter. I looked everywhere and couldn’t’ find them,” came the deep voice Braden realized belonged to Duncan. Then he was back from Highever, but what was this about a massacre?

“Who would do this?” another voice asked.

“The soldiers wore Amaranthine armor, though Arl Howe told Teryn Cousland that his troops were delayed because of rain. The Teryn sent his son on to Ostagar with all of Highever’s forces. Howe took his chance to take Highever, though I don’t know his motives. Howe and the Couslands have been friends for decades,” Duncan answered. It was silent for a few moments before Duncan continued quietly, “I found the Teryn and Teryna in the larder, both dead. I don’t know what became of their daughter, but we must get to Ostagar and tell the Highever contingent what has happened. They have a head start on us.”

Quickly, Braden lay back down, pretending to be asleep when he heard them start to make their way back to their camp. He didn’t want them to think he had been eavesdropping. That was considered rude in most societal circles. He heard one of them walk up to the fire and dump some dirt on it, scrubbing it into the earth and leaving behind a pile of ash and charcoal.

“Alright, it’s time to get up and packed, you two,” another said. Braden made a show of waking up, rubbing his eyes, yawning, and stretching. Across from him, Nuala blinked open her eyes, hands coming up to rub the sleep out of them.

When her eyes were hands free, she looked around and spotted Duncan. Confused, she asked, “how did your recruiting up north go?”  
Braden frowned, but busied himself with his meager possessions. He tied up the elfroot pouch, folded his extra robe, rolled his socks into pairs, and packed each item carefully in his pack. He did all of this slowly and methodically.

Duncan sighed and Braden turned to look at him. He was frowning, dark arms crossed over his armored chest. “Not well, my Lady,” he replied. It confused Braden every time Duncan used the term ‘my Lady’ when addressing the dwarf. Maybe it was just Duncan being polite. Or, maybe there was something there that the mage was missing, which was entirely possible. “There were a few promising recruits, but the castle was attacked before I could finish my evaluations.”

Nuala sat straight up, surprise etched into her features. “Attacked? There was a noble family that lived there, yes? You will be reporting this attack to King Cailan?”

“Yes, my Lady. He is at Ostagar, and I will inform him as soon as we get there,” Duncan answered. Nuala nodded, new fervor enhancing her movements as she prepared to leave.

They were ready to leave within minutes of the short conversation. They had a few days left to travel on the open road, but Duncan informed them they would not be stopping for longer than a few hours again. They needed to reach the old ruin with as much speed as they could muster. They wouldn’t be running of course, since that would drain their stamina, but they did keep an even and steady but vigorous pace.

Late morning arrived on the fourth day of their vigorous pace when they approached Ostagar. Braden could hear the soldiers long before they saw the bridge leading into the old ruin. Waiting for them at the bridge was a contingent of soldiers surrounding a man in gleaming golden armor.

“Duncan! My friend!” the man exclaimed, lifting a golden gauntleted hand in greeting. His eyes were blue and sparkled with a happy youthfulness. His shoulder length blond hair was pulled back at the temples in braids and clasped behind his head. He had a boyish face even with a hard-lined jaw and straight nose.

“King Cailan! I did not expect for you to welcome us here,” Duncan replied, coming to a stop in front of the King of Ferelden and giving a bow.

“I heard you were spotted on the road and had to welcome you!” the King responded happily, clapping a hand on the senior warden’s shoulder. He looked at the rest of the group standing behind Duncan and his smile grew. “These must be your new recruits, Duncan!”

The warden nodded and indicated Braden and Nuala to approach. Nuala did so immediately, offering the king a small bow. Braden was a little more hesitant. He had never met anyone so important in all his life, even though many Templars felt they were so important. Titles and politics were never important to him, what with growing up in the Circle Tower. But he didn’t want to offend the King either, or he may end up without a head. Following Nuala’s and Duncan’s example seemed the best course of action, so he moved forward a couple steps and bent at the waist, head bowed. He straightened his back quickly and stepped back.

“This is Nuala Aeducan from Orzhammar,” Duncan introduced, indicating the young dwarf woman standing beside him before nodding to Braden. “And this is Braden Amell from the Circle Tower.”

The king smiled, nodding in greeting to them, “it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ser. And my Lady Nuala, I believe you and your family came to my coronation.”

“That is correct, Your Grace,” Nuala replied respectfully, but didn’t say more.

“How are they doing? I remember your brother Behlen being quite the troublemaker,” Cailan said with a laugh.

The dwarf’s face darkened, eyes lowering to glare at the ground, color rising to her cheeks, and lips turning down into a scowl. Her fists clenched at her sides, almost shaking with what looked like rage. Cailan frowned at her, noticing the change. Nuala took a couple deep calming breaths before she replied, “yes, he is still quite the troublemaker.”

“Is everything alright, my Lady?” the king asked, worry bringing his blond eyebrows together over his straight nose.

“No, my Grace. But I am…” she started, but choked on her words. She looked like she may cry but beat back the tears with shear will, anger forcing the sorrow away. Clearing her throat, she continued, “I am afraid I will not do the story justice, my Grace. It is still too fresh a wound.”

Cailan looked to Duncan, maybe to ask what had happened. The senior Grey Warden regarded Nuala for permission before explaining, “Behlen killed Trian, the eldest son and heir, and pinned the murder on her. She was exiled to the Deep Roads without trial.”

Shock drained the color from the king’s face and he knelt before the dwarf. Clasping both of her shoulders, he stated earnestly, “I am so sorry, my Lady. If there is anything I can do, please let me know.”

Damn. And Braden thought his experience at the Circle Tower was bad. Well, he had been betrayed by someone he considered a brother, but that kind of thing happened in the Circle on almost a daily basis. One mage screwing over a colleague to get ahead. Another mage ratting out a friend to the Templars. But an actual brother killing blood kin and pinning the crime on a sister? Nothing like that happened at the Circle, even though the tower was filled with all kinds of other atrocities.

“Your Grace, there is another matter I need to speak with you about,” Duncan stated.

“Of course! And I have battle strategies to discuss with you. Come, we can speak of this at my tent,” Cailan replied, standing and clapping a hand on Duncan’s shoulder.

Duncan nodded before turning to Braden and Nuala. “Braden, I will need you to find the other two recruits, Ser Jory and Daveth. Nuala, please find Alistair. He is another Warden who will be helping you all with your joining. When you have found them, bring them to the Wardens’ campfire.”

Nuala nodded before leaving them, heading into the old ruin of Ostagar. Braden followed behind, frowning as he watched her. She kept her head down, shoulders tense. He hadn’t known her all that long, but he worried about her, especially now that he knew what had her so upset.

Braden jogged to catch up to her, slowing once he was in step at her side. “You alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she answered, tone clipped. Before Braden could say anything else, she stated, “let’s just focus on our tasks, Braden.”

“Ok, just know if you need anything…” he trailed off as they reached the end of the bridge. Nuala nodded, and turned right around the wall and into the camp beyond. Braden sighed; she was going to be tough to get to know, and forget friendship. That dwarf seemed to be encased in steel. The emotion he’d seen from her earlier was the only glimpse he had of the person beneath the figurative armor. Maybe she just needed some time.

 

**Nuala**

Nuala wandered into the old ruins quietly. She didn’t want to attract too much attention, since she didn’t want to talk to anybody. What was the name of that warden Duncan wanted her to find again? Aedan? Alan? Alistair. Yes, that was it. She’d only been half listening when Duncan told her to go find him.

The further into the camp she moved, the more she heard dogs barking. Intrigued, she roamed toward the sound, finding the kennels easily enough. The dogs inside were large, broad shouldered beasts with massive jaws and short tails. They studied her with an intelligence that Nuala was surprised to see in an animal.

“This isn’t good. I’d hate to waste such a promising member of the breed,” a voice said sadly. Nuala looked to her right, wondering where the voice was coming from. The kennel master – she assumed – stood looking in one of the pens at a sick hound. His eyes looked tired and unhappy, shoulders slumped a little under his leather armor.

“What’s wrong with it?” Nuala asked, joining the man at the pen and looking in at one of the hounds. It had dark grey fur but wasn’t as alert as the others. This one was still, save for the rise and fall of its chest.

“These are mabari, smart breed and strong. This one’s master died in the last battle and the poor thing swallowed darkspawn blood,” the man frowned, looking away from the dog and studying her. “You’re the new warden, right? I could use some assistance. I have medicine that could help her fight the taint, but I need her muzzled first.”

“Why can’t you muzzle her?” she asked, studying the beast inside curiously.

“I’m not a Grey Warden, or a Warden recruit. I will never be immune to the taint. But you are, or at least soon will be immune. The most you’ll have to worry about is teeth marks,” he replied wryly.

Nuala frowned, watching the rise and fall of the hound’s chest. That’s what could have happened to her, if Duncan hadn’t found her. She’d have died because of the taint, or because of a tainted darkspawn. She couldn’t leave her to suffer. “Ok, I’ll give it a shot.” The kennel master smiled and handed her the muzzle to use. Carefully, she entered the pen and approached the mabari. The hound opened her eyes when Nuala got close, a weak growl coming from deep in her chest. “It’s ok, girl, I’m not going to hurt you,” the dwarf murmured as she knelt in the straw in front of the mabari. The hound’s clear blue eyes continued to watch her, but she didn’t growl again, even as Nuala lifted her head to put the muzzle on her. “You’ll feel better soon, I promise.” The mabari blinked at her, then closed her eyes.

“Nicely done!” the kennel master exclaimed once she’d exited the pen. “Now we can treat her properly, poor girl.”

“What’s her name?”

“I believe her former master called her Kali,” the kennel master answered.

Nuala frowned, head cocked to the side. “That sound’s dwarven,” she stated. The man only shrugged, saying something along the lines of ‘I didn’t name her.’ “Do you need help giving her the medicine?” Nuala asked, loathe to part with the animal now.

“No, but… might you be going into the wilds soon? There is an herb that grows out there that could really improve her chances. It’s a flower that blooms in the swamps, if I remember correctly. It has white petals with a blood-red center, very distinctive. If you come across it, I could use it,” he requested.

“Sure, if I head out there I will definitely keep an eye out,” she said. He thanked her again and with one last look at the sick mabari, Nuala turned away. Her encounter with the mabari had done a little to brighten her mood, but at the same time, she worried for the hound’s fate. But, she still had to find Alistair.

Except she hadn’t the slightest clue where to start looking. She walked for a while before asking someone toward the entrance to the camp if they’d seen Alistair, since she really didn’t want to walk the entire place. He was last seen in the northern end of the ruin, in what was either a destroyed Chantry or throne room of some sort.

“And I was going to name one of my children after you! The grumpy one,” she heard a voice to her right say. As she rounded the corner and climbed the stairs that lead to a dais of some sort, she could see a tall man with short sandy blond hair and wearing bronze splintmail armor standing with another man who wore Circle robes similar to Braden’s and the biggest scowl Nuala had ever seen. The mage he was talking to said something in a low voice before stalking off angrily, shoulders scrunched and fists clenched.

“Blasted Templars… blasted Chantry….” He growled as he stomped by. The rest of what he said was indecipherable mutterings, possibly to do with Templars and the Chantry. When Nuala looked back at the man standing at the top of the stairs, he had turned towards her. The front of his sandy blond hair stuck up, making his forehead look larger than it was. He had warm, hazel eyes. A straight nose led from his brow to his lips and stubbled chin and jaw. Nuala had to admit, he was handsome for a human, but he didn’t have quite enough hair for her taste.

“You know, one good thing about the Blight is the way it brings people together,” he said with a wistful sigh. Nuala cracked a small smile and almost laughed but recovered with a cough.

“Are you Alistair?” she asked, trying to remain stoic and serious.

“Oh! I’m sorry, where are my manners? Yes, I am Alistair. And you must be one of the new recruits,” he answered with an embarrassed laugh.

“Yes, I am a warden recruit. My name is Nuala,” she stated. She looked over her shoulder where the mage had stomped before turning back to look at the boyish face of her new acquaintance. “What was that all about with that mage?”

A sheepish look fell on Alistair’s features and he frowned slightly when he answered, “the Revered Mother thought it would be an excellent idea to send me to speak with the mages. Of course, she knew I was a former Templar and probably wished to push some buttons. Well the mage picked up on that pretty quickly.”

“Sounds like she was trying to stir up some trouble. The mages are our allies, they don’t have to be here,” Nuala frowned.

Alistair nodded, “I’m aware. Most stayed at the circle, only a handful of the more experienced mages came to the king’s aid. Either way, the Chantry wants to remind them who is in charge, I guess.”

Nuala frowned, “this Chantry should be focusing on the battle, not petty squabbles. There are more important things to do.”

“Speaking of the battle, we should probably get back to Duncan. Have you met the new recruits?” Alistair asked, deflecting the subject easily.

“No, Duncan sent Braden, the mage he recruited, to go find them and bring them to the fire at the warden camp. I assume I’ll meet them there,” Nuala answered. Alistair nodded and turned to walk down the stairs.

“Then we should get going. We don’t want to keep Duncan or the others waiting,” he said.

“Are you going to be coming with us?” Nuala asked as she followed him out of the ruined chantry/throne room. Alistair nodded with a small ‘m-hmm.’ “Well then, I look forward to travelling with you.”

“Really? That’s a switch,” he replied, surprised, like he’d thought she might not like him or something. Well, she had been a little bit cross with him, she reasoned. Not to mention she was already in a bad mood to begin with. She sighed, she would have to do better with her behavior. She was supposed to be working with these people.

It didn’t take her and Alistair long to reach the wardens’ camp. Duncan was already there with Braden and two others Nuala didn’t recognize. One was a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing chainmail. He had red hair that was shorn close to the scalp, probably to hide how much it was thinning. There was a large bastard sword strapped to his back. The other was smaller and slimmer. He had dark hair and tanned skin and wore light leather armor. A bow and quiver were attached to his back with a dagger strapped at both hips.

“So, you’ve found Alistair, did you? Then you’re ready to begin,” Duncan stated in way of greeting before turning to Alistair, frowning. “Assuming of course you’re finished riling up the mages.”

“What can I say? The Revered Mother ambushed me. The way she wields guilt, they should stick her in the army!” Alistair replied. Braden stifled a laugh to Nuala’s left, disguising it as a cough.

“She forced you to sass the mage, did she? We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don’t need to give anyone more ammunition against us,” Duncan chided.

Alistair hung his head, “yes, Duncan. I’m sorry.”

The warden commander nodded, turning back to the recruits. “Nuala, this is Daveth and Ser Jory. They are the other two warden recruits,” he said, indicating first the man with the twin daggers and leather armor and then the tall knight with the two-handed sword. “Now that you’re all here, we can get started. You five will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks. The first is to obtain four vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit.”

“What? We’re going into the wilds?!” Jory exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Obviously. Do you see any darkspawn in the camp?” Braden replied dryly. He didn’t seem to think much of the knight, not that Nuala could blame him.  
She rolled her eyes at the byplay. “What’s the second objective?”

“There was an old Grey Warden archive in the Wilds that was abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts. It has come to our attention that some scrolls may have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them,” Duncan explained. He then turned back to Alistair, continuing with, “Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can.”

“What’s so important about these scrolls anyway? And why leave them behind?” Braden asked, and Nuala was surprised not to hear a hint of sarcasm in his voice, just genuine curiosity.

“They are treaties with different peoples who are obligated to assist the wardens during a blight. They were once considered only formalities, but with so many forgetting their commitments to us, we have a great need of them. We had always assumed we would return to the outpost, and now we will,” Duncan replied.

“So, get darkspawn blood and find old scrolls in an abandoned outpost. Ok, anything else we should look for? Maybe a unicorn we could ride into battle?” Braden asked, a cheeky grin on his face. There was the blasted sarcasm. Nuala turned to glare at him, grey eyes sharp with annoyance. Didn’t he take any of this seriously? Daveth and Alistair, on the other hand, couldn’t hold in their chuckles and even Jory cracked a smile, though the knight still looked green around the gills. Duncan was not amused.

“Don’t worry, Duncan, we’ll get it done,” Nuala stated, in no mood to have the group completely dissolve into giggles.

“Good. Alistair will guide you to the area where you will search for the scrolls.” Duncan explained. He turned back to the junior warden. “Watch over your charges, Alistair. Return quickly and safely.”

“Yes sir,” Alistair replied.

Before they could turn to leave, Duncan said, “may the Maker watch over you.”

With that last parting word, Alistair led them to the gates to the Wilds. Nuala followed dutifully, Braden at her side. Daveth and Jory took up the rear, neither excited to enter the cursed woods. Not that she could blame them. She’d faced darkspawn before, and while she knew the necessity, she was not excited to encounter more.

“You headed into the wilds?” the man at the gate asked. Alistair nodded to him and with a grave look, the gate keeper opened the gate.

 

**Guin**

It had been days. Days since she’d eaten a full meal. Days since she slept in a bed. Days since she’d left Highever behind, and her parents to die at the hands of Arl Rendon Howe.

Guin was exhausted, but she kept moving south. She had to get to Ostagar, to her brother. He could be in danger. He needed to know what happened, what Howe did.

Thank the Maker for Ares. Her faithful mabari had kept her on track moving south through the wilderness. She couldn’t travel by the road, not with Howe and his men possibly looking for her to finish the job.

Finally, the sound of a great army reached her ears: the clang of a blacksmith’s hammer on his anvil, men practicing their swordplay, others laughing jovially while they ate and drank together. She crested one more hill and saw the white marble of the old Tevinter Fortress, Ostagar. With a sob of relief, she descended the hill toward the ruins, Ares at her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to comment, bookmark, subscribe, or leave kudos!


	5. Chapter 5: The Korcari Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guin makes it to Ostagar and talks to King Cailan. Alistair, Braden, Nuala, and the other venture into the wilds to obtain darkspawn blood and Grey Warden treaties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Here's chapter 5, enjoy!

Chapter 5  
The Korcari Wilds

 

Guin

On shaking legs, Guin crossed the bridge into Ostagar. Ares walked beside her, eyes watching, scanning for any sign of a threat. He’d taken her mother’s words to heart it seemed. The hound hadn’t let her out of his sight, not that Guin minded.

The sun was getting low, but had not yet touched the horizon. There was still at least another hour before dusk, but the sky was beginning to be painted in vibrant oranges and reds. Guin used to love sunsets, but now the colors reminded her of Highever burning. So, she kept her gaze on the stones in front of her, continuing to put one foot in front of the other.

“Ho, there!” a soldier called once she’d gotten a good distance across the bridge. “Where do you hail from?”

“Highever. I have come to find my brother, Fergus Cousland. I also wish to seek an audience with the King,” Guin answered. When she mentioned her family’s name, the soldier straightened his spine, surprise etched into his features. She understood the surprise, she didn’t look very lady like. She had travelled several days through the wilderness without much washing. Her hair was a tangled mess, the strands not knotted in the braid were matted with dirt and sweat and stuck to her neck and face. Her usually milky skin was covered in a layer of dirt and grime. She probably smelled like the wrong end of a horse to boot. “Please, ser, this is urgent.”

He frowned at her, but eventually nodded and led her inside the ruin. “The king’s tent is back that way, past the mages and the healers,” he said, pointing past several colorful tents and up a ramp. “Good luck getting an audience with him… my Lady.”

Guin nodded and began to make her way into the camp. As she passed the mages, however, a familiar, deep voice caused her head to whip around. Duncan, the Warden Commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens, stood conversing with a mage. She was floored. He’d made it out of Highever! “Duncan?!” she gasped, still not quite believing what she was seeing.

The swarthy man turned quickly at the sound of his name, eyes falling to her immediately and widening in surprise. He said something very quickly to the mage before jogging over to her. “My Lady!” he exclaimed, amazement and joy evident in his tone. “I thought you were dead!” He paused before saying somberly, “I am truly sorry about your parents, my Lady. I had helped your father get to the larder and he sent me on a search to find you and your mother. When I returned… Again, I am so sorry.”

Tears gathered in Guin’s eyes and blurred her vision but she refused to let them fall. Gathering all her will power, she shoved it all back so she could speak. “I came to look for my brother. I am afraid for his safety and he needs to know what happened.”

“And I assume you would like to speak to the king? I have told him what all has happened, but I believe he would be relieved to know you survived. I could take you to him if you like,” Duncan offered, turning in the direction Guin had originally been headed.

“Yes! I would really like to speak with him. Thank you so much, Duncan,” she replied earnestly and together they set off for the King’s tent.

It didn’t take them very long to reach it, and Guin could tell it was the royal tent from a long ways off. It was huge, for starters, and bore the colors of the Theirin house of red and gold. They were stopped a few paces away from the opening by a royal guard, wearing full steel plated armor. “What’s your business with the King?” he demanded as he held up a hand to them.

“This is Lady Guinevere Cousland, here to speak to the King about the atrocities that happened to her family and people at Highever,” Duncan answered quickly, his voice elevated so anyone inside the tent to could hear him.

There was a commotion inside, like something was dropped on the ground before footsteps thudded their way to the tent flap. In the opening appeared the blond head of King Cailan, golden armor gleaming in the sunlight. His blue eyes fell on her and widened, a smile appearing on his lips. “Lady Cousland! I can scarce believe it!” He waved them inside his tent, with a ‘come in!’ So, Duncan and Guin followed the King inside, the latter giving a quick order to her mabari to stay outside.

It was cozy inside the tent, with a table overflowing with fruits and vegetables, a cot in the corner covered with linens, furs, and pillows as well as a lounge chair adjacent to it, piled with pillows. Furs and rugs lined the ground and candles were lit along the tent. It must have been a lot of work to cart all this from Denerim and set it up here.

Cailan turned back to them, grabbing an apple from the fruit basket and offering it to Guin. “Duncan told me what happened to your family. I am deeply sorry for you and I want you to know that as soon as this mess with the darkspawn is over, I will be delivering the King’s Justice to Arl Howe.”

Guin nodded in thanks, taking the apple with a very small smile. “Thank you, Your Grace. That is definitely good to hear. But, I am worried about my brother, Fergus. He does not know what happened and I’m afraid Howe may have sent spies or assassins to harm him.”

Cailan frowned, “Your brother is out on patrol with the Highever forces. I’m afraid he won’t be back for some time.”

Now Guin frowned, looking down at the apple in her hands. She had been so hoping to see her brother, to share her grief. On the other hand, she was slightly relieved she didn’t have to tell him about his wife and child just yet. She still hadn’t figured out how to say the words.

Cailan stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “How about this; you stay and get washed up, fed, and rested. I’m sure you’re tired after your journey here and you can use my tub if you like. I’ll have my servants set it up for you,” he offered. Then he looked at Duncan questioningly before saying, “Afterwards, I’m sure Duncan will allow you to stay with the Grey Wardens at their camp to wait until your brother returns. They have a very good view of the gates that lead to the wilds.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Your Grace,” Duncan replied, evenly.

Guin looked up at the both of them, gratitude making her heart swell. “Thank you, both of you, for your hospitality.” She turned to Cailan and said, “I would be very glad to take you up on your generous offer. However, I’m not sure I could sleep until I see my brother. After I get cleaned up, I will join the wardens at their camp.”

“Of course, my Lady. I’ll tell my servants at once to start heating up some water and have you brought some dinner while you wait,” he said with a small smile. It disappeared with his next sentence, said with a sigh, “meanwhile, I’ll be meeting with Loghain to discuss more strategy for the upcoming battle.”

“I will return in an hour, my Lady, to escort you to our camp,” Duncan said, and with a small bow to Cailan, he left the tent.

Cailan gave her a small smile before following the Warden Commander out. True to his word, a hot bowl of beef stew with a small loaf of bread was brought to the tent not five minutes later, along with a big copper tub. The elves that brought it quickly started heating water outside and bringing it in, filling the tub as quickly as they could. Meanwhile, Guin sat down to dig into her meal, finally feeling like she could relax for the first time in days.

 

Braden

  
They hadn’t been in the Korcari Wilds for ten minutes before they were attacked. By no less than seven wolves, to be exact. Thankfully, Braden didn’t have to get too close to kill them. He stayed back with Daveth, using long range attacks while Alistair, Jory, and Nuala got up close and personal. Even so, Braden had to admit he felt a kind of savage glee to finally be let off his figurative leash. Before, he had felt the watchful eyes of the Templars and older mages as he cast, and now? He was free to put as much power into his attacks as he could manage, unleashing his magic with the full force of freedom. This felt almost as wonderful as the first time he managed to escape the Tower.

Nuala displayed a similar savagery in her attacks. He had been surprised by her battle prowess and ferocity earlier. And for the first time, he saw a glimmer of actual enjoyment in her eyes when she was fighting those wolves. Maybe there was hope for her yet.

Once the wolves were dead, they moved on, though Nuala did stop at the edge of the swamp where a large white flower with a red center bloomed. She said something about the kennels but Braden wasn’t really paying attention.

Daveth and Jory kept relatively quiet – surprisingly – as they moved forward, only grumbling about the cold, scary wilds every few minutes rather than every second. Those two were both pretty easy to figure out. As soon as he met them, he knew what kind of people they were. Daveth was a lady’s man with barely a modicum of courage in his body. He was terrified of magic, sure the wilds held deadly witches that would turn him into a frog. He was steadfast in becoming a Warden, however, whatever that may mean. Jory, on the other hand, was a complete coward and Braden didn’t understand how that man had become a knight of Redcliffe. He complained about all he had to do to prove himself to Duncan, he complained about fighting darkspawn, and he complained about the wilds. It was driving Braden nuts, to be honest.

Alistair hadn’t been around enough for Braden to form an opinion of him besides dislike for being a Templar, even if he hadn’t taken vows or been part of the order. And of course, there was the fact that the man was stupidly good-looking. Usually, Braden was the best-looking guy around, but Alistair had this tanned, chiseled, out-doors-y quality that would surely turn the eyes of all the action Braden was hoping to find. But, the man was a Grey Warden, and Braden figured he’d be a ‘brother’ once he joined them.

Suddenly, Alistair halted his steps in the middle of the path, kneeling in the dirt. In front of him lay an injured man, who looked as if he’d crawled his way toward them.  
“My unit was attacked by darkspawn! They popped up out of the ground, killed everyone!” the soldier grunted, voice showing just how much pain he was in.

“He needs to get back to camp, he won’t make it if he stays out here,” Nuala said, kneeling next to Alistair and the injured soldier.

“I can make it if… my injuries…” the soldier groaned.

“I think I have some bandages in my pack,” Alistair offered, fishing them out and helping the soldier apply them where he needed them. Soon, the man made it to his feet and stumbled down the path towards the gate to Ostagar with a mumbled ‘thank you.’

“Did you hear that? Darkspawn took out a whole unit of seasoned warriors!” Jory exclaimed, voice going up in pitch with his fear. Braden rolled his eyes and he heard Nuala scoff. Apparently, she didn’t think much of their new companion either.

“Don’t worry, there are darkspawn about but we’re in no danger of running into the horde,” Alistair replied patiently.

“How do you know that?” Jory demanded, voice still a little pitchy.

Now Alistair sighed, frowning. “I can sense them. They won’t surprise us like they did that unit.”

“You see sir knight? We may die, but at least we’ll be warned about it first!” Daveth replied with aplomb.

Jory frowned, noticing he was the only one voicing his fear. “That is…comforting,” he finished, that last word added reluctantly.

“Can we just keep moving? We have tasks to complete, and we won’t want to be stuck out here after dark, so we need to get back to camp before the sun goes down,” Nuala growled, arms folding across her armored chest.

“Right,” Alistair replied before turning and continuing down the path.

It wasn’t long before they came upon a spot where the path passed between two tall, steep hills. A tree had fallen over, it looked like years ago now, and spanned the width of the gap between the hills. Hanging from the dead tree were three dead mean, all mangled and deformed. Braden frowned, looking at them, thinking of the demons he had come across while in the fade during his harrowing.

“Well that’s just excessive,” Alistair muttered, looking up at the men sympathetically.

“Why even do this?” Nuala asked, eyeing the bodies, quite obviously disturbed. “Darkspawn are mindless normally, they wouldn’t think to display bodies this way.”  
“During a true Blight, the darkspawn are more organized and appear to have more thought. That’s because there is an archdemon behind them, leading them,” Alistair answered, still frowning at the bodies.

“Can we please keep going? This is giving me the creeps,” Daveth muttered, watching the bodies as if they would come alive and try to harm them. Braden rolled his eyes at the former thief as Alistair nodded and continued under the fallen tree, having care to dodge the dangling legs of the hanging men.

They walked in silence for several minutes, all of them watching their surroundings with wary eyes. Braden did not want to be caught off guard in this forest. It felt dark, and maybe even a little ill, like it was being poisoned. Which made sense, blights were notorious for poisoning the land they consumed.

“Darkspawn!” Alistair growled suddenly, making Braden jump. He ran off not even a second later, shield and sword in each hand, followed shortly by Nuala with her own blade and shield extended. Braden removed his staff, running after them, not looking to see if Jory and Daveth did the same. He could see Alistair and Nuala engage several creatures up ahead, weapons clashing. The darkspawn were horrific, hideous monsters. Their skin was grey and green, dead or decaying, and looked like it had been peeled off and sewn back together. Sharp, yellow teeth glinted from beneath thin, cracked lips. Their eyes gleamed with bloodlust, mad smiles curling their lips.

Braden almost stopped right in his tracks when he got close enough to smell them – not that he meant to smell them. The odor of death clung to them like a nocuous cloud. But he didn’t stop; he pulled himself together and shot a fireball spell at a tall darkspawn who had lifted an axe preparing to strike Nuala’s back. It burst into flame with a shriek, dropping the axe and stumbling away from the field before it collapsed on the ground, quiet. Nuala gave him a quick nod of thanks after decapitating the short darkspawn she’d been fighting.

Daveth’s arrows soon joined the fray, followed by Jory and his greatsword. Better late than never, Braden thought, shooting various lightning and fireball spells at the darkspawn. It didn’t take long after they joined the battle that the last of the monsters fell. Once all the creatures were down, Alistair went to several, filling up the four vials he’d been given by Duncan with the tainted blood.

“Alright, that’s one task done,” Nuala stated, wiping her blade off in the grass. “Where are we supposed to go for the treaties?”

“Are we not going to talk about those monsters?!” Jory squeaked, wide eyes glued to the still forms of the darkspawn littering the ground.

“What’s there to talk about? They’re dead, and we have work to do,” Nuala replied, rolling her eyes and sheathing her sword.

Alistair sighed. “The short ones are called genlocks and the tall ones are called hurlocks. Darkspawn mages are called emissaries and are generally more intelligent than genlocks and hurlocks.” He paused in his explanation, studying the large Redcliffe knight. “I’m sure you’ve heard of their origins, so there’s not much more to know other than be careful of their blood.”

“There, explanation is done, can we continue?” Nuala asked impatiently, arms folded across her chest. Jory and Daveth had no objections, though Jory was still wide-eyed. Alistair frowned slightly at the dwarf but lead the group deeper into the wilds without saying anything. This surprised Braden. Most of the Templars he knew would not dare let their leadership get challenged like that. No one mouthed off to Templars, at least Braden didn’t anyway. They would have put the offender in his or her place before doing anything else. But Alistair had let it go with only a small frown? That was new.

About twenty minutes later – and thankfully darkspawn free – they reached a hill. On top of said hill stood the skeletal remains of a white, stone tower. Alistair stopped short, eyes roaming the hillside, obviously looking for something.

Nuala came up next to him, eyeing him before studying the hillside as well. “Darkspawn?”

“Yes,” he replied, but his frown deepened into a scowl. “They have an emissary.”

“How do you know that?” Jory asked, squinting at the hill and not seeing anything.

Braden frowned. “He told us he trained to be a Templar. Templars can sense magic.” Jory uttered a small ‘oh’ and Nuala rolled her eyes.

Alistair ignored all of this, saying “I’ll go after the emissary first, you four go after the rest. I’ll join you once the emissary is dispatched.” Nuala nodded, readying her sword and shield. Braden followed her lead, removing his staff from his back and clenching it in his hands. “Alright, let’s move,” Alistair said, moving up the hill.

As they got closer to the ruined tower, the more darkspawn seemed to appear. Nuala charged forward, sword slicing at a Hurlock. Braden followed the dwarf’s lead, shooting fireball spells left and right. Daveth’s bow appeared in his hands and he began to pick off darkspawn alongside Braden. Bulky Jory was slow to respond, but finally made his way to the thick of the battle, two-handed sword slicing the air with a dangerous woosh. Alistair managed to pick his way through the battle, finding the emissary with the ease of a practiced Templar. Braden could feel the smite he was building and was immensely glad not to be on the receiving end of it.

Most of the darkspawn were felled quickly, but some took a little bit of effort, especially the emissary. Even though Alistair had smited the blasted thing, he was not able to get close enough to do any other kind of damage. Nuala was currently engaging in a deadly duel with another Hurlock. She was agile for a dwarf – though Braden didn’t know many dwarves, none besides Nuala actually – so she was able to dance around her larger opponent and deal damage. Daveth took out a genlock with a well-placed shot before helping Jory with a Hurlock. So, Braden moved closer to the duel between the darkspawn mage and the former Templar, hoping to assist in dispatching the monster, even though he was sure he would be rebuffed. Templars notoriously did not trust mages, and to fight alongside one? Forget it.

Alistair glanced over for a fraction of a second as Braden approached, eyes questioning as the mage moved to assist. The Templar seemed to realize quickly what Braden intended and worked to give him room to help. He didn’t allow himself a moment to be surprised at Alistair’s reaction, but began to fire spells while the Templar alternated using his sword and his abilities. It took a few seconds for Braden and Alistair to find a rhythm of fighting that worked, but eventually they were able to click as a team and took the emissary down quickly.

Once the monster breathed its last, Alistair turned to Braden with a smile. “Thanks,” he said, but Braden had absolutely no idea how to respond aside from a small nod. Trust and gratitude toward a mage, from a Templar? These concepts were foreign to the circle mage, who’d grown up being told his magic was a curse, that if he stepped out of line, he’d be killed or worse, made tranquil. No Templar had ever given him a chance like this.

Alistair had started to clean his blade off in the grass when Nuala approached, her own blade stained with the darkspawn ichor. “The treaties are inside, right? What are we standing around for?”

“You just finished killing a ton of hell spawn, why not take a few seconds to breathe?” Braden remarked, growing tired of her impatience. Besides, Jory was still trying to wipe his blade clean and Daveth was collecting his arrows. As a group, they weren’t ready to move on.

The dwarf glowered at him, mouth opening to respond when Alistair said, “alright, that’s enough. We don’t need to be at each other’s throats when we have plenty of enemies in these wilds.” He turned away from them, toward the ruined tower. Nuala sent another glare at Braden before following the warden inside. The mage simply rolled his eyes after her and trailed behind, Daveth and Jory taking up the rear. “Ok, the treaties are here in a chest somewhere. Everyone spread out and look for them.”

The group fanned out within the ruins, searching for something that could possibly hold the treaties. Braden wandered off toward a large, crumbling, stone staircase, eyes scanning the ground for anything – shards of wood from a chest, pieces of vellum, maybe even the wax seal that could have been used. After several minutes of searching with no reward, he was about to give up when he saw it. It was an old, decaying, wood chest that was overgrown with ivy and weeds. Braden took off toward it, shouting, “I’ve found something!”

Nuala was the first to reach him, Alistair hot on her heels. “What is it?” the Templar asked breathlessly, as Braden knelt in the dirt in front of the aged wooden chest.  
“It’s a chest,” the mage answered, tearing weeds and ivy away to get into the inside of the rotted wood.

“Are they in there?!” Daveth exclaimed, coming up behind Nuala and Alistair with Jory at his side, watching Braden clear out the chest. But there was nothing inside. Braden looked up at them frowning, confused and quite annoyed with the new circumstances. There were no treaties here. No way to make sure the wardens had aid against the blight. Now what?

“Well, well, what have we here?” a voice uttered above them. Surprise had each of them leaping back from the stairs, spines straightening, and reaching for weapons, eyeing the newcomer warily. Well, everyone else was eyeing the beautiful, mysterious woman slowly descending the stairs warily. Braden couldn’t help but let his jaw drop slightly, mouth going dry. Her kohl smudged golden eyes studied each of them with sharp intelligence. Full, deep red lips curved slightly in a smirk. Her raven black hair contrasted with her pale skin and was pulled back in a messy knot, showing off a long, slender neck and delicate shoulders. A blouse – or strategically placed drapings of burgundy cloth – hung from her shoulders and was held in place by beaded leather cords. Her breasts peaked out from behind the cloth teasingly. Her right arm was adorned with leather bands and a glove while her left arm was covered from palm to shoulder in a black leather sleeve with raven feathers decorating her left shoulder. A black skirt made of various animal skins hung low on her hips and black leather boots completed the ensemble. On her back was strapped a weathered, knotted staff. “Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?” her voice was low and sultry and Braden found himself mesmerized by it.

By now she had reached the bottom of the ancient stairs, standing before them and studying them intently. When her eyes landed on him, he could feel his stomach flip. She looked with disdain on his robes before eyeing someone else. “Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled wilds of mine in search of easy prey?” She cocked her hip to the right, arms folding across her chest and asked, “What say you, hmmm? Scavenger or intruder?”

Braden found he couldn’t reply since he was quite distracted by the beauty standing confidently before them. Nuala stepped forward when no one else did and stated, “we are Grey Wardens and this tower used to belong to our order.”

“’Tis a tower no longer, the wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse,” the woman replied easily, thin eyebrow rising as if in challenge. Then she began to move again, hips swaying side to side as she began to circle them like prey, saying, “I have watched your progress for some time. ‘Where do they go,’ I wondered, ‘why are they here?’” She stopped at a crumbled exterior wall, back turned to them for a moment. She spun back to them, continuing, “And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?”

Alistair moved closer to Nuala, eyes locked on the witch distrustfully. That was a look Braden was familiar with and he scowled seeing it again. “Don’t answer her, she looks Chasind and there could be others nearby,” he said, voice low.

The woman scowled at the Templar, golden eyes flashing with anger. “You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?” she growled sarcastically, hands flying into the air.  
Alistair glared back at her, replying, “yes. Swooping is… bad.” Was that really all he could come up with? But… he didn’t have to worry about Alistair turning the eyes of all the fair ladies. At least not this one, and Braden found he simply couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“She’s a witch of the wilds, she is! She’ll turn us into toads!!” Daveth finally chimed in, voice shaky and high pitched with fear.

The woman rolled her eyes at the statement, hands landing on her hips, and said, “Witch of the Wilds. Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?” Her eyes locked with Nuala’s, head cocking to the side just slightly. “And what of you? Women do not frighten like boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”

“My name is Nuala Aeducan,” Nuala answered, armored arms folding across her chest.

“And mine is Morrigan,” the witch replied.

“And I’m Braden!” Braden blurted, but immediately regretted uttering a single syllable. Morrigan turned her golden gaze on him, frowning before she once again looked at Nuala. Maker, he felt like a fool.

The witch crossed her arms across her chest again, ignoring everyone but Nuala. “Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something that was in that chest, something that is here no longer?”

“’Here no longer?’ You stole them, didn’t you?! You’re some kind of… sneaky… witch thief!!” Alistair accused, and Braden found himself feeling a little bit better about his previous faux pas. The former Templar was making a bigger fool of himself than Braden had managed.

A small smirk curved her lips upward, amusement dancing in her eyes. “How very eloquent. I wonder, how does one steal from dead men?”

“Quite easily it seems. Those documents are grey warden property and I suggest you return them,” Alistair demanded, arms folding across his chest.

“I will not, for it was not I who removed them,” Morrigan replied, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. “Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer, if you wish. I am not threatened.”

Dammit. They needed those treaties. If Morrigan didn’t take them, then maybe she knows who did? After all, she claimed these wilds were hers now, surely, she knows something of the goings on. “Then who removed them?” Braden asked.

Morrigan eyed him once again, gaze no longer annoyed but thoughtful. “’Twas my mother, in fact,” she answered with a small exhalation.

Yes! “Can you take us to her?” Braden asked. Daveth and Alistair made noises of protest, but Nuala rose a hand.

“We need those treaties and if her mother has them, then we must go retrieve them,” Nuala stated simply.

“That is quite a sensible request. I’m glad some of you can use your wits,” Morrigan replied, and Braden smiled slightly at the praise. It wouldn’t do to show just how happy he was at the attention.

“She’ll throw us all in a pot, she will!! Just you watch!” Daveth exclaimed.

“At least it would be warmer than these cursed wilds!” Jory replied, annoyed. Braden looked at the man, surprised. That was the first time the knight hadn’t taken the opportunity to cower.

Morrigan rolled her eyes at the exchange, turning away and heading into the wilds. “Follow me then, if it pleases you,” she called over her shoulder. Nuala hurried to comply, obviously not wanting to lose their guide in the shadows of the trees. Braden was right behind her, not willing to lose the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

 

Alistair

Alistair trudged behind Nuala and Braden as they followed the witch thief, scowling. He did not trust that woman. She appeared out of nowhere, claiming she’d been following them the whole time – creepy – and then guessed at exactly what they were looking for – super creepy. Something was up, and while Alistair knew they needed those treaties, he didn’t think he could have made the decision to follow the strange wild woman farther into the wilds to go get them. He didn’t think he was much of a leader and big decisions like that were best left up to someone else.

The ground started to slope down and Alistair looked up and past Morrigan. Ahead of them was a small, dilapidated hut standing in the middle of a swamp and held together by what looked like sheer will power. Smoke wafted lazily into the air from both the chimney and from the campfire in front of the abode. Standing near the fire was an old woman, her gray hair falling about her face in haphazard strands. The clothes she wore were homespun and dirty.

“Greetings, mother! I bring before you five grey wardens who—“ Morrigan called.

“I see them, girl,” the old lady stated, interrupting her daughter. She regarded them with the same golden eyes that Morrigan possessed. They gave Alistair the creeps. “Much as I expected,” she said after studying them each in turn, eyes lingering on Nuala, Braden, and Alistair. Her brow furrowed, searching the other two faces but not seeing what she expected. “You’re missing one of your number.”

Ok, so she was creepy and crazy. That was always a wonderful mix. “Uh, no, we’re not,” Alistair replied. “And are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?”  
The woman eyed him coolly, saying, “you are required to do nothing, least of all, believe. Shut one’s eyes tight or open one’s arms wide, either way, one’s a fool.”

“She’s a witch, I tell you! We shouldn’t be talking to her!” Daveth hissed at them.

“If you say that one more time, I swear to the Maker, I’ll turn you into a toad, myself,” Braden growled at him. Daveth went green in response, but he snapped his mouth shut.

“Besides, if she’s really a witch, do you want to make her mad?” Jory admonished.

“There’s a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things,” the woman stated with a small shrug. Now what the hell did that mean? Was her being a witch irrelevant? Or was Jory? “And what of you?” she asked, eyes landing on Nuala and Braden once again. “Do either of you have a different viewpoint? Do you believe as they do?”

Nuala and Braden looked to each other, both sporting mildly confused looks on their faces. “I’m not sure what to believe,” Nuala replied finally, looking back at the witches.

Braden took longer to answer, pondering the question. “I believe you know more than you’re letting on,” he said finally. The old woman seemed genuinely surprised by the answer, a smile curling her lips.

“Be always aware,” she said and paused, a thoughtful expression crossing her wizened features. “Or is it oblivious? I can never remember.” She paused to study them again and Alistair was feeling this woman was only crazier than she let on. “So much about you is uncertain, and yet, I believe… Do I? Why yes, it seems I do.”

“So… this is a dreaded witch of the wilds,” he said quietly. Honestly, he wasn’t all that impressed. He didn’t sense much magic coming from her and her brain seemed too addled to even cause damage properly.

The old woman smiled, “witch of the wilds, eh? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she’d never admit it! Oh, how she dances under the moon!” She finished with a laugh.

Morrigan had put her face in her hands in embarrassment. She sighed and looked back at her mother, saying, “they did not come to hear your wild tales, mother.”

“True, they came for their treaties,” the woman stated. Her eyes snapped to stare hard at Alistair. “And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these.” As she said this, she pulled three rolled scrolls of vellum out of a pocket in her dress.

“You—“ Alistair started, ready to start barking as she put it, but then he realized what she said. “Oh, you protected them?” he asked.

She frowned, “and why not? Take these to your grey wardens and tell them this Blight is a bigger threat than they realize.” Wait, what? How would the wardens not know how big a threat the Blight is? They’ve been fighting them since the first!

Braden looked mildly alarmed as he asked, “what do mean it’s bigger than they realize?”

The woman shrugged, “either the threat is more or they realize less. Or perhaps the threat is nothing!” She paused before she continued with a laugh, “or perhaps they realize nothing!”

Nuala shuffled her feet before she said, “well, we have what we came for. If we stay much longer, it would be too dark to see our way.”

“Time for you to go, then,” Morrigan said, not sounding the least bit sad. Alistair wasn’t sad to leave either, ready for the warden campfire and a hot bowl of stew with a nice chunk of cheese.

The old woman turned to her daughter, frowning slightly. “Do not be ridiculous, girl. These are your guests.”

Morrigan frowned back at her mother and eventually said with a sigh, “very well, I will lead you out of the wilds. Follow me.”

Alistair sighed, very ready to be away from the old crone, and followed Morrigan back up the hill. Nuala was right, however. The sky had turned a brilliant shade of red and was quickly darkening to purple as the sun sunk below the horizon. The first stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky.


	6. Chapter 6: Gray Wardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guin meets the Warden recruits when they return from the wilds. Braden and Nuala undergo the Joining. Guin and Alistair realize they do have a history. The darkspawn horde encroaches on Ostagar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 6! Don't forget to bookmark/comment/ and leave kudos! Enjoy!

Chapter 6

Grey Wardens

 

Alistair

Alistair was exhausted when they finally made it back to Ostagar.  He hated to admit it, but Morrigan got them back to the camp in record time, even dodging darkspawn and wolves and whatever else was blood thirsty enough to attack them.

“There you are, wardens,” Morrigan said in a bored tone once the wooden gate came into view.

“Thank you, Morrigan.  It’s been a pleasure,” Braden replied with a small nod and a grateful smile.  All politeness and charm; it made Alistair want to gag.  The mage obviously fancied the witch, which astounded the former Templar.  She was rude, haughty, and majorly condescending.

Thankfully, the woman only gave Braden a brief nod in return before disappearing into the shadows of the trees.  “Creepy,” Alistair muttered before turning back to the wooden gate.  After a couple knocks on the gate, it opened and the party filed inside the ruins.

“I’ll meet you all at the camp.  I need to stop by the kennels and give them the herb I found,” Nuala stated before walking over to the kennels, not giving Alistair a chance to tell her to be quick.  Instead, he sighed and continued towards the Warden’s camp, the bonfire at its center blazing bright and hot.

Duncan was waiting for them there, as was a cloaked figure, who turned when the Warden Commander looked up to the approaching party.  Alistair’s breath caught when he saw her.  Her hood was down, revealing her features, and by the Maker what lovely features.  She had bright green eyes, a delicate nose settled nicely between them, with full lips at its base.  Her jaw was square and her cheeks were full, giving her a youthful appearance.  Her dark brown hair was tied back in a loose braid that fell down her left shoulder.  She was slender, built for speed, it looked like, rather than strength.

At her side stood a russet colored mabari that eyed them with both wariness and curiosity.  With each step, Alistair and the others made closer, the war hound inched closer to the woman, even putting itself between her and the newcomers.  Alistair assumed the hound belonged to the mysterious woman.

“Alistair, good to see you made it out of the Wilds, but where is Nuala?” Duncan asked, worry lacing his tone as his eyes flicked between the people standing before him.

“Oh, she had some business, at the kennels,” Alistair replied, having to fight not to stare at the beautiful, cloaked woman.  He wasn’t able to keep from glancing at her occasionally though, which Duncan noticed.

“Well, we’ll wait for her to get started then.  In the meantime, this is Lady Guinevere Cousland,” Duncan stated, indicating the cloaked beauty.  Alistair felt his eyes widen.  She was a noble, a member of one of the most prominent families in Ferelden, outside of the Theirins and the Guerrins.

“It’s an honor, my Lady,” Braden stated, stepping forward with a slight bow.  The man just exuded charm, apparently.  Rory rushed to give her a slight bow as well, pink rising to his cheeks at his oversight of decorum.  Daveth looked rather speechless, which Alistair could most definitely understand, since he was rendered thus as well.

Lady Cousland graced them each with a small smile, but when she regarded Alistair, her gaze hardened, eyes darting to look at his face.  _Oh, Maker… she may recognize me!_ The ex-templar thought with dismay.  Curse his father and his damned dominant genes.

After a moment of study, she shook her head very slightly and finally looked away, confusion lighting her eyes.  Alistair breathed a small sigh of relief.  She didn’t recognize him, or really, his Theirin heritage.  Duncan was the only person in their company who knew his secret, and he hoped to keep it that way.

“Lady Guinevere, this is Alistair, a junior warden,” Duncan stated, clapping a hand on the ex-templar’s shoulder.  “And these are most of our recruits.  Braden Amell hails from the Circle of Magi, we found Daveth in Denerim, and Ser Jory is a knight of Redcliffe.  Lady Nuala Aeducan should be returning shortly.”

“Good to meet you all,” she said graciously.

Duncan turned back to Alistair and the recruits, saying, “Lady Guinevere is our guest for the evening, while she awaits her brother’s return from the Wilds.”

“You honor us, my Lady,” Alistair remarked, bowing slightly.  Thank the Maker his tongue finally returned to him.

“It is you all that are doing me the favor,” Guin replied, eyes focused once again on the ex-templar.  Her green gaze looked conflicted: grateful, but sad and angry, too.  Exhaustion shadowed her eyes and loss tightened the skin around her lips.  She looked like she was barely holding together, but at the same time, stood with the practiced poise of a noble woman.

At that moment, Nuala walked back into the camp.  “Sorry for the wait, Duncan.  The kennel master had asked me for help, and I couldn’t say no,” she stated addressing the Warden Commander as she approached.  Her eyes fell to the newcomer and widened slightly.  “Lady Guinevere!  You’re alive?!  How are you?  How did you get here?” she asked, voice surprised and polite, but still tempered.  The tone in her voice surprised Alistair, who had only heard impatience and annoyance from her since he met her.

Lady Cousland smiled at the dwarf, “I am… alright, my lady.  I’m here on family business.  I hear you are to be a warden!  Congratulations.”  Her voice seemed a little strained to Alistair, like forced cheer.  She did seem genuinely happy to see the dwarf – though he had no idea how they knew each other.

Duncan cleared his throat, and everyone fell silent, even Lady Cousland.  “I’m sorry, My Lady, but we must prepare for the Joining.  Alistair, bring the recruits to the ruined temple and we will begin.”

Alistair nodded dutifully, worry turning his stomach.  They couldn’t explain the Joining here, not in front of Lady Cousland.  It was a closely guarded secret, after all.  If it got out what went into the ceremony, no one would become a warden, and then, there would be no one to stop a blight.

 

Braden

“Soooo, how do you know Lady Cousland?” Braden asked, coming up behind Nuala as they followed Alistair to where the Joining would be held.  He didn’t miss the former templar’s slight turn of his head so he could hear the dwarf’s response better.

“We met at King Cailan’s coronation – or, well, at his tourney.  The dwarves of Orzammar have always been allies to the throne of Ferelden,” Nuala answered, a smile lighting her face as she recalled a memory.  “Neither one of us were really thrilled with being paraded around in gowns at the balls.  Instead, we participated in the tournament – against our fathers’ wishes – and met on the field of battle.  She wielded dual weapons and was fast as the head of a deepstalker.  She clobbered Behlen good before….” And then her smile fell from her face.  Her eyebrows furrowed over her shiny steel grey eyes.  Frowning, she cleared her throat, shook her head, and stated gruffly, “we should be worrying about the Joining.”

“I already _am_ worried about the Joining,” Jory muttered.  He eyed the junior warden ahead of them and asked, “can it really kill us?”

“We do pay a heavy price for what we are.  Fate may decide you pay now, rather than later,” was Alistair’s solemn reply.  He continued a second later, with a small encouraging smile.  “But, any darkspawn could kill you just as easily.  Don’t worry, Duncan wouldn’t have chosen you and brought you here if he didn’t think you could handle it.”

“Well, let’s hurry it up then.  I’m anxious to see this Joining,” Daveth remarked.

They walked the rest of the way to the ruined temple in quiet, which bothered Braden considerably.  He never liked the quiet, especially the weighty kind.  The mage did not want to be left alone with his thoughts, his anxieties.  This ceremony would change his life.  It would permanently remove him from the circle and Templar control, but he would forever be standing vigilant against the threat of darkspawn and the blight.  That was quite a bit of responsibility, more than he knew how handle.  Thankfully, the Grey Wardens were a large number in Ferelden.  He would be able to learn how to cope with the duty.

“The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it,” Jory groused as they came to a stop amidst the crumbling stone of the old temple.

“Are you blubbering again?” Daveth huffed with a frown.

“Well, why all these damned tests?  Have I not earned my place?” Jory argued, hands flying in to the air in annoyance.

“Maybe it’s tradition.  Or maybe they’re just trying to annoy you,” the rogue grumbled.

“Yep, that’s it.  Only the fighters who can withstand the irritation may stay to become a Grey Warden,” Braden stated sarcastically with an eyeroll, becoming quite exasperated with Jory’s constant complaining.  But this _was_ better than the heavy silence.

“Would you all just shut up?  We’re in this together right now, we’re all anxious, but if we want to be Grey Wardens, we must go through with the Joining,” Nuala growled, frown turned into a scowl with her annoyance.

“I just know that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way.  If they had warned me…. It just doesn’t seem fair,” Jory murmured, hanging his head.

“If you have so much at stake, why did you come in the first place?” Braden demanded.  If he were in the man’s shoes, with a pregnant wife, he would not have left her side for anything.  Not that it would be likely to ever be in the man’s shoes.

“And if they _had_ told you, would you have come?” Nuala added.

“Maybe that’s why they don’t tell anyone.  The wardens do what they must right?” Daveth argued.

“Including sacrificing us?” Jory asked incredulously.

Daveth scowled at the ‘brave’ knight and said gravely, “I’d sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight.”

“You make a good point, Daveth.  My people have been fighting the Darkspawn in the deep roads for ages, and we’ve been losing ground.  Imagine if the Grey Wardens didn’t have the numbers to combat it because ninnies like you, Jory, were too cowardly to go through with a little ritual,” Nuala snarled.  Ok, that was really harsh, even if it was true.

“Maybe you’ll die, maybe we’ll all die, but if we don’t try, then everyone will die for sure,” Daveth added, nodding with Nuala.

“I’ve just never faced a foe I couldn’t fight with my blade,” Jory mumbled.

Braden didn’t miss Alistair staying completely out of the conversation, standing back from the group with his armored arms crossed tightly across his chest.  He had a frown on his face as he waited, listening to the recruits argue.  When Duncan came into view, he stood up straight, arms falling to his sides.

“At last, we come to the Joining,” the warden said as he approached the motley crew.  “The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation.  So it was, that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint.”

“We’re… we’re going to the drink the blood of those – those things?!” Jory demanded, eyes wide in disgust and fear.

“As the first Grey Wardens did before us.  As we did before you.  This is the source of our power and our victory,” Duncan answered calmly.  Braden frowned.  This sounded an awful lot like blood magic, drawing power from the life source of a living being.  Admittedly, darkspawn might as well be undead, but the thought was still revolting to the mage, especially after the events that preceded his leaving the tower.

“Those who survive the Joining are immune to the taint.  We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the archdemon,” Alistair supplied.

“Let’s get on with it then.  We’ve spent enough time standing around, talking,” Nuala sighed, stepping forward slightly.

“We say a few words prior to the Joining, but they have been said since the first,” the warden said before he turned to the junior warden.  “Alistair, if you would?”

Alistair nodded, bowing his head as if to pray.  “Join us, brothers and sisters.  Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant.  Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be foresworn.  And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day, we will join you.”

Duncan turned back towards the recruits, holding the chalice with the darkspawn blood concoction inside.  Nuala had stepped forward, volunteering to go first so the warden offered the chalice to her.  The dwarf took it and gazed at the contents inside before steeling herself and taking a sip.  Her spine stiffened after a few seconds and Duncan quickly took the chalice from her to keep the liquid from spilling.

A strangled scream escaped her clenched teeth, her eyes wide and unseeing, hands fisting at her sides.  After another moment, she collapsed to the ground, and Braden couldn’t tell if she still lived.  Alistair stepped forward and kneeled beside her, checking for a pulse or breath escaping her nose.  The relieved look the ex-templar sent Duncan made Braden relax just slightly.  She had made it.

Alistair hefted Nuala and removed her a safe distance from the rest, giving her space and time to come to on her own.  When he returned, Duncan was ready to continue.  “Daveth, step forward.”

The rogue did as commanded, grasping the chalice and taking a sip.  His reaction was different from Nuala’s.  He immediately shouted in pain, falling to his hands and knees, breaths coming in strangled, gurgling gasps before he collapsed and lay completely still.  Alistair knelt beside the man, checking again for signs of life and sighing in regret when he found none.  Braden felt his stomach tighten.  One had made it, and another had not.  What were his odds then?

Alistair removed Daveth’s body to a separate part of the ruin, away from Nuala’s sleeping form.  When he returned once again, Duncan approached Jory, but the knight was shaking his head, eyes wide in terror, and backing away.

“Step forward, Jory…”

“I—I have a wife!  A child!  Had I known –“ Jory argued, pulling his sword from his scabbard.

“There is no turning back,” Duncan replied, his voice low as he unsheathed his daggers.  Braden’s eyes widened at the scene before him, feet moving back on their own.

“No!  You ask too much!  There is no glory in this!” Jory gasped, back hitting the crumbling stone wall.  He lifted his blade in a defensive manner but Duncan charged, ducking beneath the knight’s guard and stabbing his daggers into the man’s belly.

“I’m sorry, Jory…” Duncan said as the man died, falling off the warden’s daggers and collapsing on the ground.  That’s when he turned his eyes to Braden, and the mage felt his stomach drop.  _There is no turning back_.  “Braden, step forward.”

He had no choice, no way out.  But what else was there?  His life at the circle was over, and his life before that he’d been forcibly removed from well over a decade ago… there was only this.  So, on leaden feet, he took a few steps towards the warden, taking the chalice from him.  The red liquid inside churned and swirled, reeking of darkspawn and magic.  Holding his breath, he lifted the cup to his lips and took a swallow of the vile poison.

Pain bloomed at his temples and he grunted.  Blackness exploded from the edges of his vision and he collapsed to the ground on hands and knees, hearing the roar of a dragon in his ears.  Another few seconds and the pain in his head and the screaming dragon in his ears became too much and he succumbed to the darkness.

 

Guin

Guin stood at the Warden’s camp by the roaring fire alone, eyes watching the gates to the wilds.  It had been hours and still no sign of her brother.  Others came and went through those wooden gates, but none bearing the Highever sigil.

It had been nice to wait with Duncan.  His recruits had seemed very capable, and she knew Nuala was an excellent warrior.  She’d make a fine Warden, once the Joining was complete, whatever that was.  She’d figured the secrecy was important, but it still irked her that they wouldn’t utter a syllable on the subject in her presence.  Well, it didn’t matter, anyway.  She wasn’t going to be a Warden; her father had not wanted that for her, and she would respect that wish.

Thinking of the recruits brought her thoughts back to the junior Warden who had accompanied them from the wilds; Alistair.  She swore she had seen him somewhere before.  He was so familiar!  It was driving her mad trying to place him, and she usually never forgot a face.  After all, she had plenty of practice growing up learning who all the nobles were.  It would have been terribly rude to forget who someone was.

So, since he looked so familiar, she had to know him, right?  So then, where?!  A frustrated huff escaped her lips, and Ares bumped his shoulder against her thigh, whining up at her.  She looked down at her mabari, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.  “I’m alright, boy.”  He _whuffed_ at her in response, plopping down in the dirt at her feet, head up and watching the people pass by.

Several minutes later, Duncan returned, carrying Nuala in his arms, Alistair right behind him with Braden slung over his shoulder.  Alarmed, Guin rushed to help them settle the two unconscious wardens – she assumed they passed the Joining at this point anyway – onto a couple empty bed rolls.  Once that was done, Duncan left again, finding a couple other wardens and giving them orders that she couldn’t hear.

“What happened?  Why are they unconscious?  Where are Jory and Daveth?” Guin asked, looking up at Alistair.

He frowned at her, eyebrows furrowed while he thought of a response.  “It’s the Joining.  Jory and Daveth did not join.”

“Alistair,” Duncan said as he walked back towards them, “take care of them.  I will help the others with the cleanup.”

Alistair barely had time to nod before Duncan was off again, following a couple wardens back into the ruined temple.  Guin sat on the ground next to Nuala, Ares padding up to her side and laying down again.  Alistair followed her lead, sitting down between Nuala and Braden.

“They’ll be alright, right?” Guin asked after a moment of quiet.

“Oh, yes.  They’re just sleeping.  The Joining is… taxing,” Alistair answered, and they once again fell into quiet.

 _He really is familiar_ , she thought as she studied his face.  She recognized the straight nose, strong jaw, and boyish cheeks, but his hair was too dark, his eyes – though a pleasant honey color – were wrong, and his ears were just a touch pointed.  Maker, why was he so familiar?  Maybe he just looked like someone she knew?

Alistair cleared his throat awkwardly, pink coloring his cheeks.  The sudden sound startled Guin out of her reverie, red coloring her own cheeks in embarrassment when she realized she had been staring.  “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s alright,” he murmured, pink spreading from his cheeks to his ears and down his neck, eyes staring down into the fire before them.

Oh no, she probably freaked him out.  Hoping to save herself from her embarrassment, she asked, “so, uh… where are you from?”

He looked up at her, surprised by the question. “I was… born in Redcliffe, lived there until I turned ten and was sent to the Chantry, in Denerim,” he answered.

Huh… well it sort of narrowed down the possibilities where she could have seen him.  She had been to Redcliffe before, for Arl Eamon’s and Lady Isolde’s wedding, but she had been just a girl then, maybe five or six and had spent more time playing with other children – both noble and villager – than doing anything else.  And of course, she’d been to Denerim, many times in fact, but she’d never spent much time with any of the Templars.  He must have been a Templar too, or at least training to be one.  That was really the only reason to be sent to the chantry at such a young age.

“You were so young, to be sent away,” Guin said quietly, frowning.

Alistair shrugged in response, “I wasn’t happy about it, no, but it worked out.  Duncan wouldn’t have found me or recruited me otherwise.”

Guin nodded, still frowning, and she laid a hand on Ares’ head to scratch his ears.  She knew if she had been sent away so young, she would have been much angrier.  Admittedly, she didn’t know the circumstances of why he was sent, but still…

“So, what about you?  I know you’re here waiting for your brother, but why come all this way?  Highever is sure to be nicer this time of year… or well all year than it is here,” Alistair inquired.

Guin’s frown deepened to a scowl.  “I would prefer not to talk about it,” she replied.  In reality, she would prefer not to think of it, the wounds still very fresh in her heart.  It had only been four days… maybe five now, since the events at Highever Castle.

“Alright, we can talk about me more if you like,” Alistair suggested, reading the grief on her features and offering her a kind smile.  Guin felt herself smiling back at him.

“Were you in Redcliffe for Arl Eamon’s and Lady Isolde’s wedding?” she asked, taking him up on the offer to change the subject.

“Ah, yes, I was.  I spent most of my time running around with the other kids though.  I couldn’t sit still during the ceremony,” he replied, smile widening.  “I remember playing tag and I was supposed to be the chaser.  I tripped chasing this one girl and sent us both across the bank and into the lake,” he laughed.

Guin’s eyes lit up, “that was you?!  Oh, my mother was so cross with me for ruining my clothes.  She didn’t understand that I didn’t care one lick about being proper.”  That had been a fun game of tag, even the tumble into the lake.  She’d come up out of the water sopping wet and covered in mud and laughing merrily.  When she’d returned to the castle later, her mother had given her a _very_ stern talking-to, explaining that a lady _never_ ran around, got mud on her clothes, or jumped in any lakes.

They sat for a little while, talking about the mischief they had gotten up to while they had been at Redcliffe as kids.  Guin thoroughly enjoyed the distraction, her heart lightening a little bit from her grief as she laughed with Alistair.

Shouting at the gates to the wilds drew both of their attention, their happy bubble of nostalgia shattered.  They both stood, watching the commotion until they understood what the scout that had come into Ostagar had been shouting.

“The darkspawn are coming!!  The horde is on the move!!”

Dread settled in the pit of Guin’s stomach.  Her brother was still out there, had he gotten caught up by the horde of darkspawn?  If not, then where was he?!  Why had he not come back?!

Ares whined next to her with worry, nudging his head into her hand to get her attention.  She looked down at him, feeling tears gather in her eyes.  After a moment, she cleared her throat and said, “uh, I’m going for a bit of a walk.  Ares needs a bit of exercise.”

“Uh, alright,” Alistair replied, eyebrows raised as he stood with her.  She gave him a small reassuring smile that didn’t reach her eyes before she turned and left the camp.  She needed to be alone for a while.

 

Nuala

The great black dragon roared, wings flapping and head thrashing in a display of power.  Flames streamed from the beast’s maw, swirling and angry and hot.  But amid the roar of the dragon were whispers of death.  They grew in number and volume, drowning out all else, until the dragon turned and looked her in the eyes.

Nuala sat up with a gasp, eyes wide and darting about her surroundings.  Sweat dampened her hair and her heart pounded in her chest.  _A nightmare… just a nightmare_ , she repeated to herself, trying to shut the images out of her head.

“Ah, you’re awake!” came Alistair’s voice from by the large campfire.  _How did I get here?_ Nuala wondered, looking around at the warden camp.  She had been in the old temple before… for the Joining.  Confused and disoriented, she looked up at the junior warden and a felt a strange pull toward him.  What, by the ancestors, was that about?  And it wasn’t just him; she felt pulled in many directions.  The ex-templar knelt in front of her, honey eyes sympathetic to her confusion, holding a bowl of beef stew in his hands.  “Are you hungry?”

At that moment, her stomach gave a rather large growl, which she frowned at.  “It appears that I am,” she answered.  Wordlessly, he gave her the bowl before standing and walking back toward the campfire.  She took several ravenous bites before the gnawing hunger subsided slightly and she felt she could slow down.  “What happened?”

Alistair sighed, “You and Braden survived the Joining, but Daveth and Jory….”  He trailed off frowning.  So, the knight and the rogue hadn’t made it through the Joining.  The dwarf wasn’t completely surprised that Ser Jory had perished, to be honest.  He hadn’t seemed to possess that innate bravery and desire to do whatever was necessary that was common among the Grey Warden order.  Daveth, though, she had thought would make it through.

“Where’s Braden?” she asked, glancing around before spying him on a bedroll a short ways away.

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” Alistair replied.

“How long have I been out?” the dwarf asked, frowning.  It was dark, the sky black as pitch with a few stars twinkling here and there that she could see through the light pollution and smoke of the camp fire.  But it had been dark – or just getting dark – when they held the Joining.  It was impossible for Nuala to tell what time it was.

“A few hours, it’s after midnight,” he replied, looking up to the sky with a frown.  “A scout returned a few hours ago from the wilds, shouted something about the horde and then the king called a war council.  They’ve been sequestered for hours.”

Nuala’s eyebrows furrowed and she glanced over at the gates leading to the wilds.  The horde of darkspawn must have been getting close.  She remembered Lady Guinevere had been waiting for her brother and his group to return from the wilds… if he wasn’t back by now…  She looked around once more, noticing the noblewoman was missing.  “Where’s Lady Guinevere?  Hadn’t she been here before?”

“Ah, yes.  She said she wanted to go on a walk.  Naturally her mabari went with her,” he answered, scratching his head lightly.  “She said she wouldn’t be long.”  When he said that, he looked up glancing around, frowning.

Suddenly, there was a groan from the bedroll where Braden lay.  “Well, that sucked,” he grunted, sitting up and holding his head.  Alistair immediately grabbed a waiting bowl of stew by the fire and brought it over.

“How are you feeling?” the junior warden asked, handing the mage the bowl of soup.

“Like I just got squished by a pride demon, then burned alive from the inside by a rage demon,” was Braden’s reply, taking the proffered bowl and digging in with gusto.

Alistair snorted and nodded, saying, “that sounds about right.”

“It’s always like this after a Joining?  When does the… tugging go away?” asked Nuala.  The pull toward Alistair and Braden hadn’t lessened, but she was surprised it wasn’t giving her a headache.  It was just extremely annoying.

“’Tugging?’  Oh!  You’re just sensing other Grey Wardens, and of course the horde.  No, that won’t go away, sorry.  You’ll get used to it,” Alistair replied with a small, reassuring smile.  Then he fished into the pack attached to his sword belt, pulling out two glass charmed necklaces.  Inside each glass charm swirled a deep red liquid.  “I was supposed to give you both these when you woke up,” he said and handed one each to Braden and Nuala.  The dwarf frowned when she took hers, studying the liquid inside.  “These are a token to remind you of your Joining, of the promise you made.  Darkspawn blood is incased within the glass.

“I’m sorry, but this is a bit too gaudy to go with my robes,” Braden remarked, holding his nose up at the charm and frowning comically.

Alistair chuckled, “I know, I said the same thing about my splintmail, but…” and he pulled a chain out from under his armor, “I found it really goes with anything.”  At the end of the chain dangled a similar charm, darkspawn blood churning inside.

“Or maybe you just have to find the right shoes,” Nuala added, smiling slightly as she pulled the chain over her head.

“What’s this?  Did you just make a joke?” Braden gasped, hand flying to his chest over his heart and mouth agape.  Nuala let a real genuine smile curve her lips, the first since before she’d ventured into the deep roads.

“She has been known to make jokes before,” a voice added from beyond the fire.  Lady Guinevere entered the light of the campfire a second later, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.  Her mabari trotted up beside her, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“Well, not recently.  Though, I can’t really blame her for that.  We’ve been through a lot in the last few days,” the mage remarked.  Quiet settled on the four of them after those words like a heavy cloud.

“Ah, good to see everyone here,” Duncan stated as he entered the camp, firelight glinting off his silver armor.  Nuala hadn’t realized he hadn’t been there until then.  He studied Braden and Nuala, a look of relief in his eyes.  “I’m glad you both pulled through.  Unfortunately, you won’t have much time to catch your breath.  King Cailan just concluded the war council.”  He paused, eyeing Alistair and Guinevere as well.  “He has an assignment for the four of you.”

“An assignment?” Alistair asked, folding his armored arms across his chest.

“Yes, it’s also vitally important to the upcoming battle,” the senior grey warden replied.

“Wait, battle?” Braden asked, spine straightening.

“The darkspawn approach us from the south.  They will be here within the hour.  I will be with the Grey Wardens on the frontline with King Cailan and his forces of soldiers, archers, and mages.  Teryn Loghain and his contingent will be waiting for a signal to enter the battle.  That’s where you all come in.  The King has asked that you four, specifically, climb the Tower of Ishal and light the beacon at the top to let Loghain and his troops know when to charge,” Duncan explained.

“We won’t be in the battle?” Alistair interjected incredulously.

Duncan eyed him, one dark eyebrow raised.  “This is the King’s personal request, Alistair.”

“So, he needs three Grey Wardens and an accessory standing there holding the torch, just in case, right?” Alistair grumbled.

“An accessory?  I assume you’re talking about me,” Guinevere remarked, eyeing the ex-templar with a raised eyebrow.  Alistair offered her a lopsided grin.

Nuala frowned, thinking about the mission itself.  It was insanely easy, why would all four of them be required to go?  “Actually, Duncan, Alistair made a good point.  Why send all of us?  Why not send one and let the others join the forces on the battlefield?”

Duncan sighed, then said, “No, all four of you will go, as commanded.  The King wanted to be sure the best would be on this, and if he wants Grey Wardens to be there, then there will be Grey Wardens.  We will do whatever it takes to defeat the darkspawn, no matter how unexciting the task may be.”

“Did you all hear that?  We’re the _best_ ,” Braden commented with a smirk.

Alistair snorted before he said, “I get it, I get it.  Just so you know, if the King asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I’m drawing the line.  Darkspawn or no.”

“I may have to see that,” Guinevere remarked, smile wide.

“For you, maybe, but it has to be a pretty dress,” was Alistair’s answer.  Guinevere was reduced to giggles, green eyes tearing up.

Braden snorted before stating, “you know, that could be an excellent distraction.”

Alistair smirked, replying with a laugh, “me shimmying down the darkspawn line in a pretty dress?  Sure, we could kill them while they roll around laughing.”

Guin guffawed at the banter, bending slightly at the waist to clutch her stomach as she laughed.  Nuala even cracked a smile, feeling a giggle bubble up from her belly.  Duncan was not nearly so amused.  He let a groan escape his lips, closing his eyes to ward off the silliness.

“Sorry, Duncan,” Nuala said, still smiling.  She hadn’t felt so light in a while, even with the threat of battle hanging in the air.  Maybe she was just feeling giddy: adrenaline started to course through her and that was why she was so prone to bouts of giggles and smiles.  Either way, she felt a little grateful for Braden’s and Alistair’s jokes.  But, it was time to be serious again.  They needed to know exactly what they were required to accomplish, and when.

Duncan cleared his throat, eyeing Braden and Alistair before he continued.  “The tower is on the other side of the gorge from the King’s camp, the way we came in when we arrived.  You’ll need to cross the gorge and head through the gate and up to the tower entrance.  From the top, you’ll overlook the entire valley.”

“Alright, that sounds easy enough,” Guinevere said, shrugging her shoulders in her silverite armor.

“We’ll signal you when the time is right.  Alistair will know what to look for,” Duncan finished, nodding to the ex-Templar.

“Alright, we know what we have to do,” Nuala replied, stooping to reattach her sword and shield to her back.  They had been removed when she’d been brought back to camp.  Braden did the same with his staff a few feet away from her, determination replacing the goofiness from a few minutes prior.

Duncan nodded, looking at each of them intently.  “Then I must join the others.  From here, you four are on your own.”  He paused, gaze shifting to Braden, Nuala, and Alistair.  “Remember, you three are Grey Wardens, I expect you to be worthy of that title.”

Gravely, Nuala nodded then turned to walk toward the bridge that would take them across the gorge.  Before she could a take a step away, Alistair said, “Duncan, may the Maker watch over you.”

“May He watch over us all,” he replied.  He nodded to each of them before turning and leaving camp, heading to join the rest of the Grey Wardens marching into battle.  It didn’t feel right, but Nuala turned away from the other Wardens, and towards the Tower of Ishal.  They had a job to finish.


	7. Tower Climb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guin and the Wardens climb the Tower of Ishal.

Chapter 7

  
Tower Climb

 

Guin

  
Chaos reigned down on the bridge once they reached it. The soldiers had gathered in the valley beneath them, facing off against the shadowy forms in the tree line of the wilds. Trebuchets launched from behind enemy lines, flinging large, molten rocks into the Ferelden forces. Several collided with the bridge, making the stones and mortar shake.

“If we’re going to cross, we better do it now!” Braden exclaimed over the din.

Nuala nodded and began to charge ahead of them, Braden following closely behind. Guin took off after them, glancing to her side to be sure Ares was running with her. Alistair took up the rear, the five of them sprinting as fast as their legs could carry them across the white stone.

An explosion of stone to Guin’s right knocked her off her feet, body twisting to avoid the large flying debris. She rolled to the quaking stones under her feet, but didn’t quite make it back to standing on them. Alistair lifted her up from behind as he caught up to her, getting her feet under her before they both set off running again.

“That was close!” Guin exclaimed.

“A little too close, if you ask me!” Alistair replied.

Miraculously, they made it the rest of the way without further incident and they paused on the other side to catch their breath. Guin looked out upon the field below them and frowned. The darkspawn were charging from the woods, their numbers great. The King stood off to the side of his forces, facing the monsters. At his command, the archers fired their arrows into the charging lines of darkspawn. Several were felled, but not nearly enough, still a huge number rushed toward the King’s army. Another command let the mabari loose, and they sprinted across the field at the darkspawn, their baying and growling filling the air.

“The battle has started. We need to be at the top of the tower when they give the signal. Let’s get going,” Nuala stated, turning from the fighting armies and toward the large stone tower. The rest followed suit, jogging up the path leading to the Tower of Ishal.

“Help!!” called a mage at the gate to the tower, running up to them, a soldier just behind him. “You are the grey wardens, yes? The tower’s been taken!!”

“What do you mean, man? Taken how?” Alistair demanded.

“Darkspawn! They came up out of the ground! There’s no one left inside!” the soldier answered, eyes wide and panicked.

Braden groaned, “it’s never easy, is it?”

“We have to get to the beacon,” Nuala growled, glaring at the top of the tower. With a scowl on her face, she unsheathed her sword and donned her shield. “We have no choice.”

“We’ll come with you! It’s as you said, the beacon must be lit,” the mage stated, eyes hard with determination.

“Then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Guin answered, removing the Cousland family sword and her dagger from her back. Flames sprang to life along the blade of her family sword as soon as she pulled it out of its scabbard. She noticed her companions eye the sword in both surprise and appreciation.

Nuala nodded gravely before stating, “be mindful of their blood. Do not, under any circumstances, allow it to get into your mouths.” Then, she turned and led the way through the gate.

Darkspawn had spilled into the courtyard from the tower, fighting what was left of the soldiers Loghain had stationed there. Nuala and Alistair rushed forward to engage the monsters, followed by the soldier they’d met at the gate. Braden and the other mage began casting spells, shooting fire balls and lightening into the enemies. Guin stopped in her tracks when she got a good look at them. They were the most revolting, horrid creatures she’d ever laid her eyes on. Ares whined beside her, nudging her forward. Guin nodded, steeling her nerves and roiling stomach, grinding her teeth against the nausea. She couldn’t freeze up here, not now, not when so much was riding on their little group to succeed. Without further ado, they joined the fray.

After the first moment of disgust wore off, Guin found herself lost in the battle haze again. Nothing mattered except the next monster being felled by her blades. She heeded Nuala’s words of course, not wanting to come down with blight sickness. The beasts went down easily enough and soon there wasn’t a single darkspawn alive in the courtyard.

“That’s the last of them,” Alistair stated, wiping his blade off in the grass.

“Out here at least, there’s supposed to be more inside,” Nuala replied, frowning up at the Tower of Ishal. It was certainly imposing, standing several stories in the air.

Guin sighed, staring at the top of the tower with a small frown. They’d definitely have to fight their way to the top of the stone structure and there was no telling how many enemies they’d face. “Well, let’s not keep them waiting,” she stated, tightening her grip on her sword and dagger and stepping toward the entrance to the tower. This needed to be done, and quickly. The battle below depended on them.

Quickly, the group made their way up the steps and through the big double doors. Once inside, the rank odor of burnt and decaying flesh hit their nostrils and Guin just about gagged. The darkspawn alone smelled bad enough, but adding burnt flesh to list of aromas would cause anyone to be dizzy. Both Alistair and Braden wrinkled their nose, the latter coughing into his sleeves.

“Well, the beasts certainly didn’t waste any time destroying the place,” Nuala muttered, fist clenching the hilt of her sword tightly.

“Darkspawn!” Alistair hissed, moving into the tower. Nuala and the soldier followed closely behind, swords and shields raised and ready. Guin moved into the room after them only to have to jump back behind the burning rubble and corpses in order to dodge some sort of magical darkspawn attack. Ares bounded past her and engaged one of the monsters, growls joining the cadence of battle. Steeling herself, she ran back into the room, going after one of the big darkspawn that was hounding Nuala. It toppled over not long after she joined the fight, black ichor oozing onto the tiled floor from its many cuts and stab wounds. Turning, she noticed Alistair and Braden tag-teaming the mage darkspawn, while the other mage fought to keep two more darkspawn at bay. Guin and Nuala rushed to assist the mage, blades engaging the monsters and killing them within minutes.

Finally, the fight was over and Guin was able to take a bit of a breath. She cleaned her blades on the skirt of her armor but didn’t sheath them. A nagging feeling that she would need them again soon kept her from putting them away. But, it wasn’t long before they were moving on to the next room. There, they met more resistance, but Guin culled them down a bit by firing the already primed ballistae.

“Nice thinking,” Nuala called as she ran headlong into a cluster of darkspawn, Alistair at her heels. Guin spared a smile before joining the fighting, working to dodge blades as well as spells launched at the darkspawn by the mages. She could feel herself – her mind anyway – pull away from the fighting, focusing solely on her opponent. After whittling the beast down, she found an opening and was able to plant her dagger in the hellspawn’s belly and swung her sword in a broad stroke to decapitate it. As she stood straight once more, she turned to Alistair and Nuala, both finishing off their opponents. Nuala knocked her opponent back with her shield before stabbing the little monster through the chest. Alistair blocked a hit with his shield and rammed his sword up through the darkspawn’s head.

The ex-templar sighed as he pulled the blade from the monster’s head, watching it fall to the ground in disinterest and wiping his blade off on the thing once it lay still on the tiled floor. He lifted a forearm to his face, attempting to wipe the arterial blood spray from his tanned skin. He really was handsome – even splattered with the blood of darkspawn – and fought with ferocity.

“Alright, let’s get moving. We need to reach the top of the tower,” Nuala stated, breaking Guin from her staring.

“I hope we can find some stairs soon… it’d be nice to actually start making progress up the tower,” Braden remarked. Alistair chuckled and nodded before following Nuala into the next room.

Instead of more darkspawn – as Guin had expected – the majority of the floor was broken apart with a massive tunnel leading into the ground. It smelled of rot and damp earth and felt cold.

“Well, now we know where all the darkspawn came from,” Braden commented dryly, standing at the edge of the massive tunnel in the floor and staring into the darkness.

“What are they doing here though? There wasn’t supposed to be any resistance in the tower,” Alistair groused, scratching his head.

“We could always tell them they’re in the wrong place,” Guin offered, smiling.

“Ah, yes, of course! Excuse me, Mr. Darkspawn, but you were not invited to this soiree. There is a large party going on in the field that you did RSVP to and it’s rude to stand them up,” Braden added, smartly.

Alistair snorted before replying, “I dare you to tell them that.”

“I’m just glad we get to see a little fighting. Besides, Alistair, I thought you wanted to kill darkspawn?” Nuala needled, small smirk playing on her lips.

“Honestly, I could have done without the darkspawn. They stink,” Guin frowned, wrinkling her nose. They weren’t nice to look at either, but the smell of death and rot made her want to throw up.

“This is your first time fighting them, right?” Braden asked as they moved to the next door – that hopefully lead to some stairs.

Guin nodded, “yeah, and this is only my second time in real combat. I’m more used to battling for sport.”

“Well, you handle yourself better than many ‘seasoned’ warriors I know,” Nuala remarked.

Guin just shrugged, adding, “Duncan had wanted to recruit me, but my father wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t want me in this war…” She trailed off and no one asked her to elaborate, thankfully. She could feel the grief well up in her chest and it took all her willpower to beat it back. A battlefield was definitely not the place to become emotional.

They reached the door and Alistair pushed it open. The heavy wood scraped the stone floor and drew the attention of the darkspawn inside. Alistair rushed forward with a battle cry, Nuala just behind him, both with swords and shields raised. Loghain’s soldier would not be outdone, following the two wardens into the fray. Ares bounded after them, tackling one of the short darkspawn to the ground and mauling it with his massive paws. Guin immediately rushed after him, family sword and dagger at the ready. The monsters were dispatched quickly, the last falling to one of Braden’s fireball spells.

“Oh hey, stairs!” Alistair exclaimed after a quick sweep of the room.

“I guess we can finally start climbing this damned tower, then,” Nuala sighed before ascending the stone stairs.

 

Alistair

  
Alistair was relieved to finally be moving upward, but the higher into the tower they climbed, the more resistance they encountered. Loghain’s soldier had been killed on the third floor and the mage on the fifth. So far though, those two were the only casualties – Maker willing. Alistair expected Nuala and Braden to perform well, they had in the wilds after all. He was not expecting Guin to be as formidable as she was or to possess an impressive flaming sword and her mabari was a force of nature.

Now, they were on the sixth floor, with a pack of mabari that they had unleased on their enemies. He suspected they were over halfway to the top of the tower – or he hoped they were. The ex-templar was getting tired of climbing and fighting. He had a pretty eventful day and had been up for probably close to twenty-four hours now. Well… maybe twenty hours anyway.

A thud against his shield broke his train of thought and he turned, eying a genlock archer in distaste. He spun his sword in his hand and charged the beast, bellowing a cry. He didn’t have to look to know Nuala and Ares were at his side with Guin just behind them, Braden staying back and launching spells left and right. His blade engaged the genlock, swiping across the beast’s midsection and causing it to leap back in order to dodge.

Another genlock appeared to his right in a cloud of smoke with a grim chuckle, dagger thrust toward the weak points in his armor. The ex-templar spun away from the two, avoiding the blade. A second later, both genlocks charged him, both holding daggers and ready for stabbing strikes. Alistair deflected one enemy with a shield bash, sending the monster crashing to the ground while he swung his sword in a great arch, aiming for the neck of the second genlock. The monster ducked and rolled away with an inhuman growl. Alistair felt a huff of annoyance tumble from his lips before spinning to the other genlock, swinging his sword and catching the beast off guard. The blade slashed across the genlock’s side under an arm raised with a dagger poised and ready to strike. Black ichor burst from the wound in the monster’s side, but before Alistair could finish it off the second genlock appeared, daggers swinging in a flurry of strikes.

The ex-templar was forced to temporarily hide behind his shield, heels pressing into the stone tiles of the floor so he wouldn’t give up ground. With a growl, he pushed on his shield, shoving the monster back. The genlock’s daggers had been knocked from its grasp and Alistair took his chance, thrusting his sword through the monster’s chest.

Out of nowhere, Guin appeared in a flurry of twirling, blazing blades, stabbing the last genlock through the chest and decapitating it in two easy swings. As she stood, she wiped at her sweaty brow and shook her head slightly, attempting to shake the dark strands of hair that escaped from the braid out of her face. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, out of breath from the fighting. Her mabari – Ares – trotted up next to her. The hound had been careful throughout the climb up the tower to only use his claws during the fights against darkspawn. Now wherever he went, he tracked the black ichor of the monsters.

Braden approached from the entrance to the room, chugging down a lyrium potion they had found in a chest a few floors below. He was sweaty and pale, obviously exhausted from the all the magic he’d been throwing around. Nuala wasn’t faring much better, but she hid her fatigue well. Her brow glistened in the torchlight from sweat and her sword arm sagged.

“Are we there yet?” Braden asked after swallowing the last bit of lyrium potion.

“If only…” Guin stated after catching her breath.

“Just a few more floors,” Nuala remarked, moving on to the next room. Guin moved to follow her, Ares perpetually at her side. Alistair moved quickly to walk with her, falling into step at her side.

“Thank you, for taking out that genlock,” he said quietly, offering a small smile.

Guin smiled back before replying, “of course! You were being teamed up on, it was the least I could do.”

“For a noble lady, you fight well,” he remarked, still smiling. Guin raised an eyebrow at him with a small frown turning the corners of her lips down and he realized how that may have sounded. “Uh… not that you being a noble or a lady has anything to do with your fighting prowess.”

“And this is surprising?” Guin inquired, both eyebrows raising in a challenge.

“Ah… only that you’re one of the few rogues I’ve met at your skill level. Admittedly, I don’t know that many rogues,” Alistair replied, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. Maker, he did not need her to think he was a misogynist!

“Hmm,” was her reply and she turned to face forward, picking up her pace to follow Nuala a little faster.

“Damn…” he muttered, shoulders drooping. He’d gone and made a fool of himself.

“No luck, huh?” Braden stated, materializing at Alistair’s side, causing the ex-templar to jump. The mage had a small knowing smile plastered to his face that made Alistair quite annoyed.

“Yeah, well, I’m not the only one who failed trying to talk to women today, so you can stop smiling at me like that,” the junior warden groused.

“Actually, our sojourn into the wilds was technically yesterday, so you are the only one to fail today, my friend,” Braden replied, smile only growing.  
Alistair huffed before stating, “then, the day is still young.” Braden laughed, nodding.

“Touché,” he answered, before picking up his pace to rejoin Guin and Nuala.

Over the next twenty minutes or so – he’d actually lost track of time by this point – they had cleared out the seventh floor and were about to ascend to the eighth. The four of them were exhausted, taking a minute at the base of the stairs to catch their breath and take a drag or two from their health poultices. The mabari they had let loose stayed on the sixth floor, making sure if anything came up behind them that it would not be easy to follow. Ares had plopped himself at Guin’s feet, ears up and eyes alert.

Alistair’s head had been pounding the entire climb of the tower, and with them nearing the top, he had hoped it would lessen – especially with the majority of the darkspawn within the tower killed. The tension in his head could be from the horde outside, but it was also highly possible for it to be caused by whatever was left for them in the tower. Frowning, he glanced up at the ceiling, faintly hearing footfalls through the stone, claws scraping at its surface.

“Something big is up there,” he remarked, quietly. Nuala frowned, lifting her head to stare at the ceiling as well.

“How can you tell?” she asked, glancing back over to him.

Alistair sighed, still staring at the ceiling. “I’ve been a warden a few months longer than you have been… You can partially sense the darkspawn, that pounding in your head?” he paused, waiting to hear an affirmative noise from both Nuala and Braden, who was also listening intently now. “Well, my head has been aching since we entered the building, and the higher we go, the more the tension increases – like I’m being pulled upward and not just to the battlefield. If we had killed all the darkspawn, I wouldn’t be sensing anything but the horde outside right now.” He lowered his gaze from the ceiling, grim eyes set on the other two wardens. He wasn’t supposed to talk about warden business with outsiders, especially with Guin sitting here… but how could he keep quiet? “I don’t know what’s up there, but it’s definitely big, so be prepared.”

“Big… like an ogre?” Nuala asked, face paling slightly but features remaining in the grim, determined look she always had.

“I’ve never fought one before, but… maybe,” Alistair replied.

They were quiet for several moments, trying to gather some of their strength back. If he was right – and he dearly hoped he wasn’t – then they would need as much strength as they could muster. Ogres were notoriously tough, large brutes that stood over ten feet tall. He had heard stories from groups of Wardens that had ventured into the Deep Roads of how they had taken out entire squads of dwarves by themselves. But, the had to face the music eventually. Afterall, the beacon had to be lit.

 

Braden

Braden was exhausted. Hell, he knew the others were, too. They’d fought through seven floors of darkspawn and were about to head up to the eighth. Once Alistair had mentioned something big on the floor above, the mage could hear the faint scratching and shuffling of large, clawed feet through the stone. They had taken some time at the base of the stairs to gather their stamina, but Braden couldn’t figure out how they were supposed to face a damned ogre as tired as they were.

Face grim, Nuala stood and turned to the stairs. “Let’s keep moving. The longer we wait, the more people die outside.” Guin and Alistair stood as well, the latter offering a hand to Braden to help him stand. The mage took the offered hand gratefully, dusting off his robes once upright. Together, the group ascended the stairs.

Alistair pushed open the door at the top of the stairs and they were greeted by a grisly sight that sent Braden’s stomach into his throat. A great, purple beast with huge twisted black horns crouched in the center of the large room, its back to them. There were several mutilated bodies surrounding it, blood staining the stones of the floor. As the door opened, the beast turned to face them, the headless body of some poor soul clutched in the ogre’s hand. The damned darkspawn was chewing as it turned. It swallowed quickly when its eyes landed on them, then its mouth opened and a roar bellowed out.

Alistair responded in kind, sword and shield in his hands in a split second and charging the beast. Nuala was only a few steps behind the ex-templar, her sword and shield raised and yelling her own challenge. Guin charged after them with her mabari by her side, going after the beast’s legs and using her speed to her advantage. Braden quickly whipped his staff off his back and began throwing spells, aiming them at the great big head of the ogre, well away from his companions, who did not reach the beast’s chest.

The warriors continued to harass the monster, keeping its attention on them. Braden wasn’t sure if that was the healthiest choice on their part, as the ogre’s massive fists swung fast at the two of them. He tried to help them the best he could, sending more and more spells at the beast’s head.

Somehow, one fireball hit the ogre in one of its black eyes. The monster angrily turned its attention to Braden, snarling and lips curling back to show massive, sharp teeth. It charged, ignoring the warriors desperately trying to keep its attention. All Braden saw were horns coming at him at a very fast clip.

“Braden, look out!” one of his companions screamed as he moved out of the path of the charging ogre. One of the horns missed him by inches, but the impact of the ogre on the wall and floor sent him stumbling, rolling along the floor with his momentum to get out of the monster’s way.

He lay on the floor, dazed, for only a moment before someone pulled him upright. The ogre had gotten up as well, bellowing its anger at the group before charging again – this time at Guin, who had thrown several knives at the beast from her position in the chamber. She gracefully rolled out of the way and was on her feet, daggers swiping at the meaty legs of the beast as soon as she was on her feet again. Braden followed suit, standing with Nuala’s help and firing more spells.

But then, the beast landed a blow. It happened as if in slow motion. A massive fist came swinging down and Guin hadn’t noticed it coming for her. Alistair’s shout of warning went unheard, but he made it to her in time, pushing her out of the way of the blow and taking it himself. The force of the hit sent him skidding across the floor, slamming into the wall on the opposite side of the chamber where he lay motionless.

“ALISTAIR!” Guin screamed, looking as if she may run to where he lay.

“GUIN NO! We have to finish this!” Nuala screamed, using her shield to bash at the monster’s leg, drawing its ire. Guin nodded jumping back into the fray. Braden continued to throw spell after spell while moving over to the junior warden. When he made it to the unconscious (he hoped) man, he stood defensively in front of him.

“Why won’t it sodding die?!” Nuala growled, ducking a massive fist and swinging her sword as high as she could reach – the beast’s rib cage.

“You need to get at it higher!!” Braden shouted back.

“Ah! I have an idea! Nuala, let me use your shield to jump up onto the damned thing!” Guin exclaimed as she swiped at the back of the beast’s knees. Nuala shouted an affirmative and Guin spun away to a far enough distance to get a decent running start. Braden had no clue what the noble lady had planned but continued to fire spells at the ogre while she got set up.

Then he stood in transfixed awe as she sprinted at Nuala, who was crouched beneath her shield. Guin leaped, feet landing on Nuala’s shield, who stood as Guin landed, creating a spring-board effect. The rogue flipped gracefully onto the back of the ogre, stabbing her daggers into the base of the ogre’s neck. It roared in pain, hands lifting to try to dislodge the woman on its back. Nuala hacked at the back of a knee and the monster collapsed to its knees. Guin twisted her dagger deeper, causing the ogre to scream beneath her before falling face first on the stone, unmoving.

Braden immediately turned away from the dead ogre, kneeling beside Alistair – who still hadn’t moved. He lowered his hands to hover above the ex-templar’s body, a blue glow emanating from them. He wasn’t a gifted healer as the school of elemental magic came to him easier – fire and electricity specifically. He thanked the maker for his foresight to learn some basic healing spells.

Alistair was in a bad state. He had a concussion, a broken ulna on the right arm, and a several broken ribs, not to mention all the scrapes and bruises. Braden did what he could for the man, healing the surface injuries, but the broken bones and concussion were beyond him – especially with such low reserves.

“Is he going be ok?” Guin asked, kneeling opposite Braden and gingerly taking Alistair’s hand in hers. The mage’s eyebrows shot up. Hadn’t she snubbed the poor man earlier? What’s this holding hands business about? Guin looked up at him, saw the raised eyebrows and blushed, gaze falling back to the man lying unconscious between them. “He… pushed me out of the way of that blow. It’s my fault he’s hurt, I should have paid better attention,” she answered quietly, voice shuddering at the end. She frowned and coughed, but did not say more.

“We need to get him to a healer. I can’t do much in my condition,” Braden replied frowning as he lifted his hands away. He looked up around the room as he asked, “what about the beacon? Is it lit?”

“Yes! Teryn Loghain and his soldiers should be charging any moment now!” Nuala called, standing up from the fireplace where a roaring fire blazed. She turned away from the beacon and made her way over to them, concern in her eyes for their injured companion.

A sudden growl by the doors caused their attention to snap to the mabari, who was standing at the opening facing the stairs, head low and hackles raised. His lips curled away from his teeth, growl getting longer and lower.

“What is it, boy?” Guin asked, standing from her position by Alistair and making her way to her mabari. Ares responded by whining at her before continuing his growling. Guin frowned, worry creasing her brows. “There’s something coming.”

Not a moment later, they heard the inhuman shouts and growls echoing up the stairs from the floor below. Guin backed away from the door, reaching to unsheathe her daggers. Nuala joined her, sword and shield in hand. Braden stood from his position, but did not move away from the vulnerable junior warden. It was weird: only twenty-four hours ago, Braden was set to greatly dislike the man and now? Well, the darkspawn had another thing coming if they thought they’d get by him to finish off Alistair.

The shouts and growls got louder as the seconds ticked by and then suddenly, they were bursting through the doorway. Braden fired spell after spell at the horde of darkspawn, felling one only to have another take its place. Nuala and Guin were having the same problem, killing one only to find another to kill immediately after. There were so many!

Guin was the first of them to fall, an arrow piercing her in the shoulder. A Hurlock took advantage of the rogue’s surprise and pain and moved to stab her through the belly. Guin moved at the last minute, but the blade still pierced her side and she dropped like a stone.

Nuala rushed to the rogue’s side, defended her prone from, but she joined her on the ground not long after, two arrows protruding from her thigh. A shield bashed her head a second later and she lay motionless beside Guin.

Ares continued to cause havoc, flitting from one darkspawn to another, using his teeth this time. His master lying on the ground bleeding out sent the beast into a frenzy, but even he was eventually overwhelmed.

Braden didn’t give up, even though he was the last one standing. Furiously, he threw more and more spells, staff whipping around and fire sizzling the air. Two arrows buried themselves in his body, one in his left bicep and other in his right thigh. He collapsed to the floor, the pain and exhaustion combined causing his muscles to fail completely. The back of his head collided with the stone floor, stars exploding in his eyes. He lay on the floor, dazed and staring up at the ceiling as the screams and shouts of the battle fell away, hoping he wasn’t about to die.

So, when the roof of the tower was torn away and the head of a massive dragon took its place, Braden thought he may have been hallucinating. The next thing he knew – or did he really know anything at this point? Was he dreaming maybe? Or dead? – was that he was being lifted into the air and carried away into the night.


	8. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wardens come to terms with the aftermath of the Battle of Ostagar and create tentative plans to move forward.

Chapter 8

Aftermath

 

Ares

Where did they go?

Ares had been wandering around the old stones for hours, looking for his human. He had tried to chase after them, when the scale-beast took them, but the dead-smell monsters blocked him from escaping for too long. The dead-smell monsters had moved on now, but there was no new scent-trail to his human he could follow. Where did they go?

The mabari sniffed the ground in distress, whine at the back of his throat. He’d never been separated from lady-master for this long. The only scent of hers he found was the old one that lead to the big, old fire. The fire was no longer hot, just black ash and burnt wood. Lady-master’s scent was stale and Ares dejectedly plopped down in the dirt and ash next to the old fire.

A whine had Ares sitting up a moment later, ears raised and eyes alert. He stood when he heard the scratching of claws on wood and followed the sound. More hounds, most sick or dead, was what his nose told him. The whine came again and Ares made his way to the pen the other mabari was closed in. Ares sniffed the air. The other mabari was a female, recently cured of the disease the dead-smell monsters carried.

‘Let me out!’ the other mabari huffed. Ares whuffed back, eyeing the wooden gate for some sort of lock. He’d figured out how to open these sorts of things a long time ago, so he could get in out of the pen the old cook at stone-home would lock him in when he was bad. Finding the cold, metal contraption, Ares nudged it with his nose before taking the latch into his teeth and pulling.

Once free, the two war hounds got a good look at each other and gave the traditional greeting. She was slightly smaller than he was and had fur the color of smoke. She took a step away and whuffed at Ares in thanks, beginning to turn away. But for some reason, Ares couldn’t let her go anywhere without him.

He took a few quick steps and nudged her shoulder, whining, ‘where are you going?’

She looked at him oddly for a second before replying with a snort, ‘away.’

He whined, turning to look around at the old stones. ‘I can’t find my lady-master.’ He wasn’t sure she had a master of any sort, but he felt leaving the area wasn’t the best idea. What if his lady-master came back, looking for him?

She cocked her head to the side and whuffed, ‘so you’re going to stay?’ Ares whined again, agitatedly scratching a large paw on the stone. ‘Come with me, it would be better than staying. The only thing I smell here is death. And maybe we can find your lady-master,’ she grumbled at him, nudging his shoulder with hers and nodding her large head toward the exit.

He huffed after another moment, turning his head back to look at her, ‘ok, but only if we both look.’

‘Deal,’ she whuffed, before setting off again. Ares followed her, glad to have some company. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that leaving this place wasn’t the best idea.

 

Nuala

Nuala sat by the fire, gazing into the flickering orange flames. Braden sat opposite her on a log, unmoving as he stared out into the wilds. It had been three days since the Tower of Ishal and she’d only been conscious for one of them. Braden had woken up not long after she had, both only suffering minor head wounds and arrow punctures to extremities. Alistair and Guin were still recovering and hadn’t woken from the ordeal.

She still couldn’t believe what had happened. They’d lit the beacon, Loghain should have joined the fighting, should have turned the tide of the battle. According to Morrigan – the witch they’d met in their first sojourn into the wilds – after the beacon was lit, Loghain left. He left the Ferelden forces – his King – and all the other Grey Wardens to die fighting the darkspawn horde. Nuala felt sick at the news, and she had no idea how Alistair or Guin would react when they awoke.

Furthermore, there had been no sign of Guin’s mabari since they’d woken up. The last time Nuala had seen him, the war hound had been tearing through the darkspawn at the top of the Tower of Ishal. He wasn’t in the wilds when Nuala came to and she knew Guin would be heartbroken at the loss.

“What are we going to do?” Braden asked quietly from across the fire, eyes still staring off into the swamp.

Nuala frowned. “We wait for Alistair and Guin to wake up,” she replied simply.

“I meant…. I meant after that. There are no other wardens and there is a blight…” Braden trailed off, voice sounding tight.

“Alistair is the senior warden among us. We wait for him to wake up before coming up with a plan,” was Nuala’s answer.

“What if –“

Nuala’s eyes snapped to the mage, who had turned to look at her a little desperately. She cut him off, growling, “don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“It’s been three days, Nuala. We should start coming up with a plan, just in case—“

“Oh, ‘tis no need to be so dramatic,” came a sultry voice by the hut they’d woken up in. Morrigan sauntered up to the campfire, stopping with her hip cocked and arms folded under her breasts. “Your last Grey Warden companion has awoken. I imagine he’ll be out here and moping with you sad lot in matter of minutes.”

Not a moment later, Alistair came stumbling out of the hut, light-weight paints and shirt on, the kind of clothes he’d wear under his armor. His pants were hastily tucked into his boots and his hair stuck up in all different directions. His right arm was held closely to his chest in a sling. The broken bone must have still been mending.  
Braden and Nuala both stood when he emerged, relieved to see him up and about. But the ex-templar simply cast his eyes about, frowning. “Lady Guinevere hasn’t woken up yet,” he stated, coming to join them at the fire and plopping down tiredly in the dirt. His gaze found Braden and Nuala and he smiled at them. “I’m glad to see you two are alright, though.”

“Same to you, Alistair,” Nuala replied and resumed her seat, Braden following suit, looking much less depressed now that their last warden companion had joined them.

“How long have I…” Alistair started, but Morrigan cut him off.

“You have been lying in my hut unconscious for the past three days,” she groused, eying her nails in disinterest.

Alistair paled. “Three days? What happened in the battle? Did we succeed in lighting the beacon?”

Morrigan tsked and opened her mouth to respond, but Nuala beat her to the punch. She knew this needed to be handled gently and Morrigan didn’t do gentle. “Alistair,” she started, waiting for his attention to be on her before continuing. “We succeed in our mission to light the beacon. Loghain was supposed to join Ferelden’s forces on the battle field but…”

The junior warden stared hard at her. “But what? What happened?” he demanded.

“After we lit the beacon, the darkspawn swarmed the tower. We were overwhelmed,” Nuala continued.

“My mother rescued you all from the tower. You would have died if she had not made it to you in time,” Morrigan stated, gold eyes firmly gazing out at the swamp.

“Right, um…” Nuala started back. She still wasn’t sure how all four of them were saved from the tower simultaneously. Braden hadn’t made much sense when he told her of the rescue. He claimed they all flew out, on a dragon. Said dragon had ripped the roof away from the tower to pick all of them up and carried them away. It was a fantastical and highly unrealistic story. First, if that had happened, then they would be dragon food and not alive here today. Second, dragons were highly uncommon to be sighted and tended to stay away from people. However, Nuala still had no clue what happened and neither Morrigan or her mother had added details to the story. Her gaze found Alistair again and she continued softly, gently, “Loghain did not join the wardens and Ferelden’s forces on the battlefield when we lit the beacon. They died, Alistair.”

Alistair did not move for several seconds, honey-brown eyes fixed somewhere passed Nuala. Shock drained what little color there was in his cheeks. After another few moments, his gaze found her again. “They’re… gone?” he asked, voice hoarse, constricted.

Nuala nodded slowly, replying, “yes, Alistair. I’m sorry.” At her words, Alistair’s chin trembled and tears gathered in his eyes. He lifted his left hand to rub at his face, trying to keep the tears at bay before he decided to stand and walk away, unable to keep the sorrow back any longer. He made it over the rise and disappeared before he let himself start crying, but Nuala could still hear him.

“Pathetic,” Morrigan muttered, rolling her amber eyes.

Nuala glared at her before growling, “that is enough, Morrigan.”

The witch scoffed, turning to the dwarf with a sneer on her face. “He is acting a child. There are more important things to be done than feeling sorry for oneself.”

“That isn’t fair,” Braden added, looking uncertain. “Those men were like a family to him and he just lost all of them at once. Give him some time.”

“Time is not a luxury any of us have any longer. T’is time to strike this Loghain where it will hurt, if this matters so much to you all,” the witch snapped.

“As Wardens, our first concern – and really only concern – is the Blight,” Nuala stated. She sighed before adding, “we are the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden and the only ones capable of ending this. Loghain’s reckoning will come later, unless he poses a threat to our duty.”

“Loghain has already posed a threat. He sentenced all the other wardens to die when he abandoned them and left Ferelden defenseless. He has crimes to answer for,” Braden argued.

“Enough!” Nuala growled, rubbing her temples. It wasn’t that she didn’t completely understand where Braden was coming from, but fighting wouldn’t get them anywhere. “We won’t decide next steps now. Right now, we are waiting for the last member of our group to regain consciousness, so we do have time.” She stared pointedly at Braden then Morrigan as she said this. Braden frowned, but nodded, turning back to stare at the swamp. Morrigan only huffed and stormed off, raven feathers on her shoulder flapping, before disappearing into the hut. Nuala returned to staring at the fire, wrapping herself up in her thoughts once again. But the discord recent events caused in their group made her worry. How could they defeat the Blight if they didn’t work together?

 

Alistair

It took Alistair several minutes to calm himself down. He would get to a point where the tears would stop flowing and his breaths didn’t shudder when he would think about Duncan and fall apart all over again. He knew he’d only known the man a little over six months, but the senior grey warden had become more of a father to Alistair than any person in his life. Duncan had saved him from the Chantry, from a miserable life, and made him feel like family.

And Cailan… Alistair had never known the man, but he was still his brother, not to mention the King of Ferelden. Why would Loghain do that to the son of his friend, and his king? Why would he pull away and allow the King and all the Wardens to die? The wardens have no political aspirations, even stay out of politics in general. They were no threat to the Ferelden throne and were only concerned with stopping the Blight. And Cailan was Loghain’s son-in-law. What reason did the man have to leave them to die? Alistair didn’t understand.

He took a shuddering breath, rubbing the palm of his left hand across his cheek to swipe at a wet trail left behind by tears. The skin under his eyes was raw with the rubbing, eyes puffy and red. His nose was so stopped up from the crying he had to breathe through his mouth.

What were they going to do? There were no Wardens left except Nuala, Braden, and him. And he was the most senior warden among them. Oh Maker, they wouldn’t expect him to make the decisions, right? Leading wasn’t something he was good at, and with something as big as a Blight to fight? If he led, the Blight would conquer Ferelden. He couldn’t let that happen.

Nuala had a good head on her shoulders and led them well in the Korcari Wilds what felt like ages ago. She was born to lead, it seemed, as she took control of their little group seamlessly and effortlessly. It would be easy to defer to her to make the hard decisions.

Resolved, he stood to rejoin the others, making sure no tears were left to stain his cheeks and that his breathing was marginally under control. He didn’t want everyone to see how much he had been crying. How embarrassing that would be!

Making his way over the small rise leading to the hut, there was a commotion at the door to the dilapidated construct that caused Alistair’s head to snap up. Guin had emerged from the dim confines in her armor, eyes casting about for something. That’s when he noticed – where was Ares?

Jogging down the rest of the path, Alistair approached Guin, ready to assist her as he was needed. If her mabari wasn’t here somewhere, the likelihood was that he had been left behind in Ostagar.

“Where’s Ares?” Guin asked, voice hoarse from lack of use.

“I’m sorry, Guin, but we haven’t seen him,” Braden stated softly, consolingly. Guin’s eyes teared up and her lower lip trembled.

Before she could reduce herself to a mass of tears, Alistair moved to her, hand coming to rest on her shoulder comfortingly and stating, “Ares is a smart hound, Guin. He could find us.”

Guin huffed, visibly fighting the tears before saying, “the woman in the hut – Morrigan – told me what happened at Ostagar. If he’s not here… then he’s probably not…” Her jaw snapped shut and tightened on the words. She took a few breaths before asking, “what happened? Morrigan did not explain much.”

Nuala sighed and said, “I wish she had let us explain it. She tends to be very blunt.”

“Yes, I noticed,” Guin replied, frowning. “How are we not dead as well though?”

“Well… Morrigan said her mother rescued us. If not for her, we would be dead,” Alistair answered.

“Do not talk about me like I am not here,” stated a voice suddenly and from the shadows, the old woman Morrigan called ‘mother’ materialized. All of them jumped at the sudden voice and startled, turned toward her.

“S-sorry… we didn’t know you were here. Or what we should call you…” the ex-templar stuttered, surprise causing his thoughts to jumble. It was true, though. They had never learned her name as she had not introduced herself the last time they met.

The old crone shrugged before replying, “names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind call me Flemeth. I suppose that will do.”

Alistair could feel his eyes bug out of his head. “The Flemeth? From the legends?” He asked, barely containing his surprise.

“Huh, Daveth was right. You are the Witch of the Wilds,” Braden stated, sounding as surprised as Alistair felt.

Flemeth frowned at them. “And what does that mean? I know a bit a magic and it has served you four well, has it not?”

“Yes, thank you for your assistance,” Guin stated, voice wary but polite. “We greatly appreciate it.”

“But why did you save us? Why not any of the others from the battle?” Nuala asked. Alistair darted a worried glance at the dwarf woman. He knew the she had an analytical mind, but that sounded dangerously close to ungrateful.

Thankfully, Flemeth offered a small smile, chuckling slightly before stating, “well, we cannot have all the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we? Someone has to deal with these darkspawn. Besides, it has always been the Grey Wardens’ duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did they change that when I wasn’t looking?”

“Of course not! The Blight is our first concern,” Nuala replied, seemingly affronted. Did she not realize who she was talking to?

“But we were fighting the darkspawn. The king nearly defeated them. Why would Loghain do this?” Braden growled.

“Now that is a good question. Men’s hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature,” Flemeth responded.

Guin’s head snapped up, turning to look at Alistair. “Wouldn’t Duncan have requested reinforcements from Grey Wardens in other countries?”

“Y-yes. Duncan had sent word to Orlais seeking aid but he was afraid they wouldn’t arrive in time,” Alistair responded, not sure where this line of questioning was going, but her eyes had lit up when he finished speaking.

“That’s it! Loghain is a war hero. His abandonment wouldn’t make sense unless he felt Ferelden was threatened by the wardens and by the king. He was afraid of Orlesians coming back into the country and occupying it,” she rushed.

Alistair’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not defending what he did, are you?”

“Of course not! He’s committed regicide and effectively sentenced Ferelden to be consumed by the Blight. He has to pay for what he’s done, or Ferelden will fall,” she blurted quickly, raising a placating hand to him. “But, I can understand his motives, at least somewhat. He’s severely prejudiced, and that prejudice will doom us, but at least allow us to anticipate his possible next move.”

“And what’s his next move?” Braden asked.

Guin looked over at him, but it wasn’t her that answered. Nuala, having picked up Guin’s trail of thought somehow, sighed and declared, “he’s probably closed the boarders to Orlais to prevent reinforcements from coming in and he’s going to accuse any surviving wardens of being traitors and sentence us to death.” Alistair stared at them, dumbfounded. How could they possibly know that? Not that it didn’t make a certain kind of sense, but to make that kind of analysis simply by understanding that Loghain didn’t like Orlesians? Most Fereldans didn’t like Orlesians, but they wouldn’t sentence their king to die gruesomely.

“Perhaps this Loghain thinks the Blight is an army he can out-maneuver. Perhaps he does not see the evil behind it is the true threat,” Flemeth added, tone dark.

“The archdemon,” Alistair agreed.

“Then we need to find this archdemon and destroy it,” Nuala claimed. “That is our duty as Grey Wardens.”

“By ourselves?” Alistair interjected, a groan forcing his voice a little lower. “No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half-dozen nations at his back.” It was a frightening truth. They didn’t stand a chance against the Blight with the meager numbers they possessed. All three of them would be slaughtered… easily, if they went up against the archdemon as they were now. Defeated, his shoulders slumped as he stated, “not to mention… I don’t know how.”

“How to kill an archdemon or how to build an army? It seems to me those are two different questions, hmm? Don’t Grey Wardens have allies they can call upon?” Flemeth questioned, eying him intently.

“I… I don’t know,” Alistair replied. “Like I said, Duncan had sent word to Orlais but if what Guin and Nuala believe is true… then they won’t be able to come.” He paused running a hand through his messy hair as he thought of the small list of people he knew who would aid them and only one name sprang to mind. “There is Arl Eamon. He would surely not stand for any of this.”

“Arl Eamon… he was Cailan’s uncle! If he knew what really happened, he would go to war against Loghain,” Guin exclaimed, a small smile curving the corners of her lips.

“And his forces weren’t at Ostagar, so they were spared from the slaughter,” Nuala added.

Alistair nodded, hope spreading into his bones. “Yes. I know him. He’s a good man and respected at the Landsmeet. We could go to Redcliffe! Appeal to him for help!”

“We also have the Grey Warden treaties. The Circle, Orzammar, and the Dalish must assist the wardens when they call for aid during the Blight,” Nuala proclaimed. Alistair smiled. He had almost forgotten about the treaties.

Flemeth folded her arms across her chest as she smirked. She looked somehow smug, or pleased, that they had remembered the treaties they had come into the wilds to retrieve only days ago. “I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else… this sounds like an army to me,” she approved.

“So, can we do this? Go to Redcliff and use these treaties and build an army?” Braden beamed, smile wide and relief evident on his features. He looked to his companions for approval of the plan and Alistair could only smile wider at him. This was the best they could hope for in the circumstances and made him feel like all was not lost.

Nuala smirked, glancing at them all in turn as she mused, “why not? Isn’t that what wardens do?”

“So you are set then. You are ready to be Grey Wardens?” Flemeth asked, eying them all intently.

“Yes,” was Nuala’s simple reply.

Guin chimed in, “I know I’m not a warden, but I feel like I need to continue with you three. The Blight is a huge threat and I cannot in good conscious leave you to deal with this on your own. If you’ll have me, I want to help.”

Nuala smiled, but Alistair enthusiastically beat her to the punch. “Of course you can come!”

“He’s right, Guin. We could definitely use you,” Nuala added, with a little eye roll at Alistair, who did not care in the slightest what she meant by the small gesture. She turned to Flemeth again and sincerely stated, “thank you, Flemeth, for everything you’ve done for us.”

The old crone shook her head, waving her hands slightly as if to ward off the thanks. “No, no. Thank you. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I,” she replied. She paused, turned slightly to look toward the doorway to her dilapidated hut. “Now, before you go, there is one more thing I can offer you.”

At that moment, Morrigan emerged from the doorway and strode to stand before her mother. “The stew is bubbling mother. Shall we have four guests for the eve or none?” she asked, gaze falling on the group of four as she finished her question.

“The Grey Wardens will be leaving shortly, girl. And you will be joining them,” Flemeth replied. Alistair’s eyes bulged. Wait, what?

Morrigan smirked and began, “such a shame –” then shock registered on her features as her golden eyes flew to observe her mother “what?” It seemed she was just as shocked by the notion as Alistair was. He didn’t know if he should be relieved or smug. Maybe a little of both? Braden, on the other hand, could barely contain his excitement, looking to Flemeth and Morrigan as if his nameday came early.

“You heard me girl. The last time I looked, you had ears!” the old crone remarked with a laugh.

“Thank you, but if Morrigan doesn’t wish to join us…” Guin started, but Braden cut her off.

“I think it’s an excellent idea!”

Morrigan scowled at them all. “Have I no say in this?” she groused, indignant at the circumstance. Braden looked appropriately cowed, enthusiasm waning.

Flemeth grew serious as she gazed at her daughter. “You have been itching to get out of the wilds for years. Here is your chance,” she stated with finality before turning back to the group of four. “As you for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives.”

“Very well, we’ll take her with us,” Nuala answered.

Alistair could not believe what he was hearing. “Not to… look a gift horse in the mouth, but won’t this add to our problems? Out of the wilds, she’s an apostate,” he stated to the group. He could imagine being chased across Ferelden by angry templars and shuddered internally. He did not want to end up in Aeonar for aiding and abetting an apostate. Hopefully, they would see sense.

Flemeth scowled at him. “If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man, perhaps I should have left you in that tower.”

Alistair gulped and backed down. Aeonar would probably be better than having the legendary Flemeth pissed at him. “Point taken,” he conceded.

“Mother… this is not how I wanted this. I’m not even ready –“ Morrigan whined.

“You must be ready. Alone, these four must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail and all will perish under the Blight. Even I,” Flemeth stated gravely. Alistair didn’t really believe Morrigan was a deciding factor in the outcome of their mission.

Morrigan sighed, hanging her head and yielding, “I understand.”

Flemeth turned back to address them, gazing at them intently. “And you, Wardens? Do you understand? I give to you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you must succeed.”

Guin and Nuala exchanged quick looks before the former replied, “yes, we understand.” Flemeth nodded, satisfied it seemed.

Morrigan sighed, again, before stating, “allow me to get my things, if you please.” She did not take long. Ten minutes – at most – later and Morrigan was striding out of the hut again, a black pack slung over shoulder with her knotted staff. She rejoined them, frowning. “I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens. I suggest a village north of the wilds as our first destination. ‘Tis not far and you will find much you need there. Or, if you prefer, I shall be your silent guide. The choice is yours.”

“No, I think we would prefer you to speak your mind,” Braden answered, easily. Alistair didn’t agree. Their trip would be better if she didn’t speak at all.

Flemeth laughed, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You will regret saying that,” she stated. Alistair already regretted it without having to be told. Morrigan was mean.

“Dear sweet mother, you are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I shall remember this moment,” Morrigan hissed.

Flemeth shrugged, replying, “well, I always said if you want something done, do it yourself, or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards.”

Alistair still had misgivings. “I just… do we really want to take her along, just because her mother says to?”

Nuala sighed, “we need all the help we can get, Alistair.”

“I guess you’re right. The Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them,” Alistair conceded, again. Obviously, everyone was set on bringing Morrigan along and he would not be able to dissuade them.

“I am so pleased to have your approval,” Morrigan sneered. Alistair scowled, but did not respond. Responding would only encourage the witch to continue talking.

“We should probably get ready to go,” Guin stated. Alistair nodded. He wanted to get on the road, as well, and out of the wilds. But first, he had to get his armor on, somehow, with his mostly-mended broken arm. As he turned and made his way toward the hut, he heard Morrigan’s and Flemeth’s final exchange.

“Farewell, mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned down hut,” Morrigan stated, hautily.

Flemeth scoffed, “’Tis far more likely you will return to see this area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight.”

With that, Alistair reached the door and shut it behind him, effectively cutting off whatever else the two might have said. Flemeth was right. In all likelihood, this area – along with a large portion, if not all, of Ferelden – would be destroyed by the Blight. He and his companions had quite a lot of work ahead of them.


	9. On the Road Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wardens travel to Lothering and learn a thing or two about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bioware owns Dragon Age.

Chapter 9  
On the Road Again

 

Nuala

They left the hut in short order, Morrigan leading them through the thick swampy forests and around groups of straggling darkspawn. Nuala was relieved to finally be under way with a goal in mind. Admittedly, they could go in several different directions and she wasn’t exactly sure which way she should go. Orzammar was easily the farthest away, and Nuala wasn’t sure she was ready set foot back inside her ancestral home. That left the Circle Tower, the Dalish, and Redcliffe. She sighed as they walked. Maybe they should make that decision together? Afterall she was not really in charge, was she?

It took several hours to navigate through the wilds and around the horde. When they finally breached the tree line and found the King’s Highway, the sun was low and the group breathed a collective sigh of relief to see an end to the trees. It was the first they had made any sound since they left Flemeth and the hut. The dwarf was especially worried about Guin and Alistair. Not only had they not said a peep, but they seemed to be incredibly withdrawn. She understood why, of course. Alistair had just basically lost all of his friends at once. Guin had recently lost almost her entire family, only to wake up today to realize that the last friend she had from her past was gone, too.

“How far from Lothering are we?” Braden asked, breaking the silence as he gazed at the position of the sun.

“Several miles, five at the least,” Morrigan replied brusquely.

Braden glanced back at Nuala, and inquired, “when do you think we could set up camp for the night? With the sun that low, we don’t even have an hour left of daylight and we can’t walk five miles in an hour.”

Nuala sighed. “Well, I don’t know how far ahead of the horde we are, and I don’t want to be caught unaware in the middle of the night.”

“The horde hasn’t advanced much, at least it doesn’t feel as if they have. Armies do tend to move rather slowly,” Alistair supplied quietly.

“Then how much time would we have to rest, or maybe we should keep on until dark, try to put a few more miles between us and them?” Guin asked.

Morrigan nodded, “I agree. We should push on ahead, try to get as close to Lothering as possible before dark.”

“Ok, be on the lookout for kindling or other things we can use for a fire,” Nuala stated tiredly. The others nodded and they descended into silence once again.

They walked for another hour, Alistair, Braden, and Guin picking up sticks alongside of the road. As the sun got lower, the longer the shadows of the trees became that crossed the road. Morrigan summoned a light that they could walk by, to avoid tripping over something in the road. By the time they stopped to set up camp, the sun had descended passed the horizon and the moon was rising in the night sky. The clearing they decided on for camp lay by a small stream a short walk from the road. The kindling was dumped on the ground and Alistair set up the campfire while Braden provided the spark. Morrigan left to find a hare or other sort of meat, while Guin walked down to the stream with the vegetables Flemeth had given them so they could be washed. They did this without so much as a word exchanged. Nuala was torn between being impressed by the innate teamwork and even more concerned with the lack of communication. She didn’t know what to do, so instead of trying to force conversation, she pulled some fallen logs around the campfire Alistair and Braden created and went to find the small kettle for a stew. Maybe they would come around on their own. Hopefully.

 

Guin

Guin rejoined the others after several minutes of scrubbing the cabbage and carrots free of dirt. She hadn’t paid attention to most of her activity, only realizing she’d been cleaning the vegetables for a long while when the skin of her hands was cold and wrinkly from the water. Morrigan was skinning and cleaning a hare and Nuala had just set a kettle over the fire, filled halfway with water. Before long, the ingredients were in the pot and simmering over the fire. The companions sat around the fire in quiet as they waited for the stew to finish, either staring at their feet or at the stars, but never at each other.

Morrigan stirred the stew, the clank of the large spoon against the sides of the kettle the only sounds made aside from the crackling the fire and the wildlife. It was lulling and Guin found herself drifting again. Her mind wandered back to her family, to her brother lost within the Korcari Wilds and her faithful hound and companion left behind in Ostagar. Would she ever see them again? The likelihood of that was low. They’d have to get around the darkspawn, and they’d only been able to do that because Morrigan knew the wilds and Alistair could pinpoint where the darkspawn were. Without guides like that, Fergus’s and Ares’s survival was highly unlikely. Tears welled up in her eyes again, but she beat them back angrily before they could fall passed the lower lid. She was so tired of crying, so exhausted with everything.

“The stew is ready,” Morrigan commented, tapping the spoon on the side of the kettle.

Alistair stood, looked within the pot and frowned. “It is? It doesn’t look ready, it isn’t grey.”

“Grey?” Morrigan inquired with a scowl at the former templar.

“Well yes, stew is finished when everything is a uniform grey,” Alistair stated.

Morrigan looked appalled by the notion. “And do you consider your meat finished when it is black?” she demanded incredulously. Alistair shrugged, scowling back at the witch, but did not otherwise respond.

“How about a vote to not ever let Alistair cook our meals?” Braden offered, smiling. “All in favor, say ‘aye.’”

Laughing, Nuala nodded before explaining, “no, Alistair, stew is not supposed to be grey! And meat should not necessarily be black either, though charring the skin is popular in Orzammar.”

Guin found herself laughing quietly as well and stood to look at the stew. Taking a deep whiff, she smiled at the wilder woman and said, “it smells wonderful, Morrigan.” Morrigan sniffed, nodding slightly at the compliment and began to dish out a portion for herself. Braden and Nuala followed suit and soon everyone was partaking of the stew, perched on the logs surrounding the fire. Quiet settled again upon them as they ate, but this time it was a comforting silence, enveloping as a warm blanket.

After they’d all finished eating and cleaning up after the meal, Nuala spoke. “We should work out a guard rotation. I don’t want to be caught unawares as we sleep.”

“A sound notion,” Morrigan commented.

“I’ll take the first watch,” Alistair offered.

Nuala nodded, stating, “I’ll take the middle watch.” Braden volunteered for third watch and the both of them decided to call it an early night to catch what sleep they could. Morrigan left the campfire not long after, retreating into the shadows away from the rest. Guin stayed where she was. She wasn’t ready to go to sleep and didn’t want to dream about what she had lost.

After several minutes of quiet – only being filled by Nuala’s and Braden’s soft snores from their positions on the ground – Guin turned to study the man sitting with her at the fire. He looked lost as he gazed into the fire, shoulders heavy with an invisible burden. Guin frowned. She had been so absorbed with losing her hound and the possibility of never finding her brother, that she forgot what he was going through. He just lost all of his brothers-in-arms in one battle.

“Hey,” Guin said quietly. She waited for his gaze to lift from the dancing flames before she continued. “You’ve been really quiet since we left Flemeth’s. How are you doing?”

A small smile graced Alistair’s lips as he replied, “I could ask you the same thing, my Lady. You’re the pot calling the kettle black.”

Guin returned his smile, turning back to the fire. “I guess you’re right. I’ve been quiet, too.”

“I understand. You’ve been through a lot recently,” Alistair stated noncommittally.

“Yes, but so have you,” she pressed. Her gaze returned to him but he was looking at the fire again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He sighed and closed his eyes. “You don’t have to do that,” he stated quietly. Opening his eyes, he refused to turn his gaze to her, resolutely staring at the flames. “I know you didn’t know them as long as I did.”

Guin studied him and frowned. He was trying to put on a strong front for her, but she could easily see how much pain he was in. Those men he lost, the other wardens, were like family to him and the hurt that loss caused would run deep. “Duncan… he was like a father to you, wasn’t he?”

Alistair’s face crumbled and he lowered his head to hide from her. His shoulders shook, whether from the effort to combat tears or from the tears themselves, Guin did not know. So, she rose from the log she was perched on and joined the ex-templar on his, scooting close and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. As if her heart hadn’t broken enough in the past week, she felt it breaking again, for him.

After a few moments, Alistair said shakily, “I should be handling this better. Duncan… warned me from the beginning that this could happen.” He paused, taking a shuddering breath and lifting his head again. His hazel eyes glistened, but his cheeks were dry. “Any of us could die in battle. I shouldn’t be losing it like this… not when so much is riding on us. Not with the Blight and… and everything. I’m sorry.”

Guin frowned at him. “There’s absolutely no need to apologize, Alistair.” And there wasn’t. His reaction to the events at Ostagar was perfectly natural.  
He swallowed audibly and nodded, inhaling another shuddering breath. “I’d… I’d like to have a proper funeral for him once everything has settled down, if we’re still alive. I don’t think he had any family to speak of.”

“He had you,” she replied immediately.

Alistair smiled and finally turned his gaze to look at her. “I suppose he did. It probably sounds stupid, but I wish I had been there with him, in the battle. I feel like I abandoned him,” he stated.

“That’s not stupid, Alistair. I understand exactly how you feel,” Guin stated.

Alistair regarded her curiously for a moment before asking, “have you… have you had anyone close to you die? Not that I mean to pry of course, it’s ok if you don’t want to talk about that…”

Guin frowned, removed her arm from his shoulders and returned her gaze to the fire. Should she talk about her own grief and loss when she was trying to comfort him? Would she even be able to? Maybe it would help. With a sigh, she started, “yes, I have. I lost my whole family recently. They were…” A lump formed in her throat, cutting off her words. That wound was fresh still, and she found it hard to even continue that line of thought, let alone say it out loud. Clearing her throat against the tightness that had formed, she continued, “they were murdered when my home was attacked almost a week ago. My mother and father made me promise to leave them behind so I could find my brother and bring Howe to justice.” She sighed, feeling the grief well up, but she beat it back once again. “But, if I hadn’t gone, I’d be dead, too.”

Alistair’s eyebrows raised, shock registering in his warm, hazel eyes. “I – I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, my Lady.” This time, he wrapped his uninjured arm around her shoulders, offering his support and comfort. Guin greatly appreciated it. “You’re right, though. I don’t think your parents would have been happy with you dying there. Neither would Duncan be, I don’t think, if I had stayed by his side.” They fell into a heavy silence after that, Guin’s thoughts wandering back to that night and the responsibility she had to uphold. Alistair was right about one thing, her parents would not have been happy had she stayed and defended them and the best way to honor them would be to bring Howe to justice. She knew she would always hurt at the loss of her parents, but somehow, now she felt a small measure of peace after actually talking and sharing her grief with someone else. Is this what it would have felt like to tell her brother about what happened? She wasn’t sure, and now, she may never get the chance to even see him again.

Suddenly, Alistair spoke, breaking the heavy silence between them. “I think Duncan came from Highever, or so he said. I’ll go up there sometime, see about putting something up in his honor or something like that. I don’t know.”

Guin smiled at him and nodded. “I think that’s an excellent idea. And maybe I could go with you?”

Alistair returned her smile. “I would like that and so would Duncan, I think.” He paused before catching her gaze and saying earnestly, “thank you. Really, I mean it. It was good to talk about it, at least a little.”

“Anytime, Alistair. This helped me, too,” she replied before standing and stretching. She could feel the exhaustion from the day creeping up on her and felt now was a good time to find some sleep. “Goodnight, Alistair.”

“Goodnight, my Lady,” he reciprocated, offering her a small smile.

“Alistair, I think, given the circumstances, you can call me Guin,” she replied. She saw his smile widen before she turned away, in search of a nice spot of ground to sleep on and lay down for the night. It wasn’t long before she found a comfortable spot and let the sounds of the night and crackling fire lull her into a heavy sleep.

 

Alistair

The next day, the group broke camp quickly and were on the road within an hour after waking. Alistair felt lighter today than he had since before the Tower of Ishal. He didn’t know if it was because he’d discussed and shared his grief with someone else, or if it was simply because Lady Guinevere had deemed him worthy of using her given name. He still hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to use her name without the honorific, however.

Said noblewoman was walking at the front beside Nuala, discussing maker knows what. Braden and Morrigan took up the rear. The latter two were talking quietly between themselves. Alistair still could not understand what the mage saw in the wilder woman, but decided it would be better to attempt to steer clear of the witch.

“So, Alistair,” Guin said, suddenly appearing at his side and matching his stride. “You said you grew up in Redcliffe, but you also know Arl Eamon? How is that, exactly? Did he raise you?”

Uh oh. “Ah… did I say that? No, I meant I was raised by dogs. Giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels. A whole pack of them, in fact,” he replied, hastily. Guin was on a dangerous line of questioning and this was the best, most ridiculous thing he could think of to throw her off.

The noblewoman quirked an eyebrow at him, a small smile forming on her lips before looking ahead. “That would explain the smell.”

Alistair laughed, albeit nervously. He hadn’t exactly expected that response. Well, he’d already started down this avenue of backstory, he might as well milk it. “Well, you see, it wasn’t until I was eight that I discovered you didn’t have to lick yourself clean. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

A laugh escaped Guin this time, light and tinkling in sound. Alistair found he quite liked the sound of her laugh. “That would explain the breath too, I suppose,” she replied, regarding him now with mirth dancing in her gaze, lips quirked in a smile.

“And my table manners, too! Though, come to think of it, they weren’t all that different from the other templars,” he added. Maybe now he could divert her attention from this line of questioning completely. He had to change the subject. His tone grew slightly serious as he continued, “or did I dream all of that? Funny the dreams you’ll have when you sleep on the cold, hard ground. Are you having strange dreams?”

A mischievous glint sparkled in Guin’s green eyes that made Alistair feel a little uneasy. “Only the ones where we make passionate love under the stars.” The look she sent him was nothing short of ‘bedroom eyes.’

Heat rushed to Alistair’s cheeks and his mind went immediately to the images that her words conjured. Gulping, he forced his mind to go blank, else he’d really embarrass himself. Damn, she saw right through his attempt to change the subject and completely derailed his train of thought. It didn’t help that she kept her green-eyed gaze trained on him while he tried to pull himself together. “Touché,” he muttered. She laughed at his resignation and discomfiture, only making him more embarrassed. It seemed she knew exactly where to press him to get what she wanted.

“Are you going to answer my question now?” she pressed, still giggling.

Alistair sighed, shoulders slumping. Well, he couldn’t think of another way out now, but maybe he didn’t have to tell her the whole of it. If she knew, she would treat him differently. Everyone would. “Let’s see, how do I explain this? I’m a bastard and before you make any smart comments, I mean the fatherless kind.” He kept his gaze trained away from her, unable to look at her as she processed this information. Instead, he continued with the story of his upbringing, leaving the most crucial information out, of course. “My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe castle who died when I was very young. Arl Eamon wasn’t my father but he took me in anyhow and put a roof over my head. He was good to me and he didn’t have to be. I respect the man and I don’t blame him anymore for sending me off to the Chantry once I was old enough.”

Guin was quiet as he finished, processing what he’d said no doubt. “So, you say Arl Eamon isn’t your father. Does that mean you know who is?”

Crap, crap, crap! Anxiety twisted his guts and he exhaled a breath in an attempt to remain calm. He was going to have to lie. “I know who I was told was my father, but he died even before my mother did. It isn’t important.” He answered with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. He had to steer her away from questions regarding his father. If she found out, she wouldn’t see just Alistair anymore, she’d see the bastard son of a dead king. The thought made his guts twist even more. “Anyway, Arl Eamon eventually married a young noblewoman from Orlais, as you know, which caused all sorts of problems between him and the king because it was so soon after the war. But he loved her…” He paused, frowning as he thought of Isolde. Once she had joined them at Redcliffe, his life had been turned upside down. She basically banished him from the castle, ordering he sleep in the stables. He wasn’t allowed to eat at the table with them either, forced to take his meals in the servants’ quarter or kitchens. Those couple of years had been absolute misery. The Arl had done what he could, but Isolde was adamant that she didn’t want him around. Ultimately, Eamon had to appease his wife if he wanted her to stay. “The new Arlessa resented the rumors which pegged me as Arl Eamon’s bastard. They weren’t true, but they still existed. The arl didn’t care, but she did. So off I was packed to the nearest monastery at age ten. Just as well, the Arlessa made sure the castle wasn’t a home to me by that point. She despised me,” he finished, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into his tone.

“What an awful thing to do to a child!” Guin exclaimed, scowling now. Alistair’s heart lifted, gratified she sympathized with him.

A small smile curled the corners of his lips up, even as he shrugged. Her cruelty toward him was so long ago and his resentment had dimmed since then. “Maybe. She felt threatened by my presence, I can see that now. I can’t say I blame her, now. She wondered if the rumors were true herself, I bet.” He sighed, eyes going unfocused as he remembered the day he was told he would be leaving Redcliffe. The tantrum he’d thrown was unworthy of him, but he had been so angry, and as a result, destroyed something precious to him. “I remember… I had an amulet with Andraste’s holy symbol on it. It was the only thing I had that belonged to my mother. I was so furious at being sent away that I threw it at the wall and shattered it. Stupid, stupid thing to do. The Arl came by the monastery a few times to see how I was, but I was stubborn and refused to see him. I hated it there and I blamed him for everything and eventually… he stopped coming.”

He felt Guin put a hand on his shoulder and, surprised, he turned to look at her. She looked sad, empathetic, and supportive, all in one and Alistair had no idea what to do with that. “You were young,” she stated simply.

“And raised by dogs,” he added, attempting to break the heavy mood he’d found themselves in. “Or I may as well have been, the way I acted. But maybe all young bastards act like that, I don’t know. All I know is that the Arl is a good man and well-loved by the people. And since he was the king’s uncle, he’d have a personal motivation to see Loghain pay, like you said yesterday.” He sighed, scratching the back of his head as he finished. He hoped that would be enough to sate her curiosity, at least for now. “Anyway, that’s really all there is to the story.”

Guin nodded removing her hand from his shoulder. She opened her mouth as if to say something but a sound behind them cut her off. She stopped in her tracks, twirling around, eyes fixed on the spot in the road that disappeared around a corner. Alistair turned as well, eyebrows furrowing at the sound. Braden and Morrigan, having noticed the pair ahead of them stop, paused in their stride as well, watching them in confusion before turning as well.

“Was that a ba—“ Braden started, but a sudden strong tugging sensation made Alistair’s eyes widen.

“Darkspawn!” he shouted, removing his sword from its sheath and holding it awkwardly in his left hand. Unfortunately, his right arm and dominate hand was still in the sling, so he could not don his shield. Fuck, he’d be unprotected on his right side and unable to fully use his sword. Flemeth had expressly told him that his bone was still mending, and using it to fight would only increase the time it would take to heal. Well, at least he still had his armor.  
At his shout, his companions immediately armed themselves and not a moment too soon. Not a second later, darkspawn burrowed up from the ground around them, laughing in their low, demonic voices. The monsters wasted no time attacking and soon, they were all engaged in battle. Guin stayed by Alistair’s side, defending his right flank, much to his relief.

Morrigan and Braden watched each other’s backs as well, firing spells left and right at the surrounding darkspawn and not letting a single monster get close. Nuala ripped through any darkspawn, wreaking havoc wherever she could.

The fight didn’t last too long, but the group was still left winded. Seven dead darkspawn lay on the ground, black ichor seeping into the dirt. Alistair wiped his blade off in the grass, trying to clean as much of the blood from his blade as possible. Guin and Nuala were doing the same, making sure their blades were clean so they wouldn’t rust in their scabbards.

“Those darkspawn… does that mean that the horde isn’t far?” Guin asked, looking from the dead darkspawn to the Grey Wardens in the company.

Alistair paused, searching in his head for the ever-present connection to the darkspawn. After a quiet moment, he shook his head. “No, the main bulk of the horde is still a long way off, several miles at the least. These would be… scouts, for lack of a better term.”

WHUFF!

Guin whirled back towards the sound, facing the bend of the road. It was the same sound as before, but closer this time, and definitely the sound of a dog’s bark. Around the corner ran a russet-colored mabari, its tongue lolling out of its mouth as it bounded toward its master. Just behind it came a grey-colored mabari, picking up speed when it saw the group gathered in the middle of the road. “Ares!!” Guin exclaimed, running toward her hound. She skidded to her knees and her warhound collided with her, sending her to her back. The noblewoman was laughing jovially, her hound equally as happy if the wagging if his entire rear end was anything to go by.

The second mabari ran up to Nuala and offered the dog equivalent of a smile, plopping its butt down on the road. “Kali?” the dwarf asked, surprise registering on her features. The mabari whuffed, standing up and licking the dwarf in the face.

Alistair smiled at the two, saying, “I think she was out there looking for you. It looks like she’s chosen you.”

Guin managed to get back to her feet, Ares bouncing around her joyously. The noblewoman approached Nuala and the new mabari, studying the interaction between them before smiling wider. “Alistair’s right, Nuala. Mabari do that, it’s called imprinting. Like Ares has imprinted on me.” She reached a hand down and scratched behind one of the russet hound’s ears.

Morrigan scowled. “Does this mean we’re going to have two mangy beasts following us about now? Wonderful,” she groused, folding her arms across her chest.

Alistair rolled his eyes before squatting near the two war hounds and said, “they’re not mangy!” Both mabari whuffed happily at him, Ares nudging his side with a large head. Alistair obliged the hound with another scratch behind the ears.

Nuala’s head snapped up. “Wait, would you take her, Alistair? I don’t know anything about dogs.”

“Me? I don’t want a dog, I can barely take care of myself!” he replied with alarm, standing back up and away from the smoky-colored hound.

“So many comments come to mind I cannot even begin to choose…” Morrigan stated, tone laced with disdain and mock-thoughtfulness. Alistair glared at the witch, clenching his teeth to keep from responding.

“Nuala, you helped that mabari back at Ostagar, right? It must remember that and that’s why its imprinted on you. From what I’ve read on them, once a mabari has imprinted, it’s not easy for them to serve another master. That dog is loyal to you,” Braden explained.

Nuala considered the hound before her, who was looking at the dwarf with hope and expectation. She sighed and said, “if she comes with us, both of you will have to help me. You’ll have to teach me how to take care of her.” Her gaze moved between Guin and Braden expectantly.

“Of course I’ll help!” Guin replied and Braden nodded an affirmative.

Nuala glanced back at the hound as she said, “alright, Kali, you can come with us.” The mabari whuffed happily, jumping about like Ares had before and wagging her rear end enthusiastically.

Morrigan huffed disgustedly and walked ahead, Braden running to catch up with her. Alistair rolled his eyes at the pair, but said nothing. It wasn’t his place, anyhow. His attention was very soon taken by Guin, who had a huge happy smile plastered to her face and she started forward once again, with Ares by her side. He was relieved to see her so happy, glad she found some light in the darkness she’d been suffering for so long.

As the group got underway toward Lothering, Alistair sent a silent prayer to the Maker, that the noblewoman in front of him would experience no more loss. She had gone through quite enough already.

 

Braden

Braden studied the position of the sun as they walked. It was nearing mid-morning, meaning they had left camp behind nearly two hours ago. They should be getting close to the Lothering, but the hills surrounding them blocked any views further than fifty feet out.

For most of the time they’d been walking, Braden had been trying to converse with the wilder woman, but wasn’t having much luck. She was very standoffish and snobbish and would not respond to him with more than one or two word answers. It was time to try again, especially if they were to be at Lothering soon. He wanted to get to know the woman before having to address his warden responsibilities.

“Morrigan, I’d like to ask you something,” Braden started.

She sighed, almost a groan, as she replied, “if you must.” Well, that was three words. It was a good enough place to start. Either that, or she was trying to lull him into a false sense of security, allowing him to believe they may actually have a conversation.

“You grew up in the wilds—“

“Stating the obvious,” Morrigan interrupted, turning her golden gaze on him. “That’s not a question, nor even an intelligent comment.”

Braden exhaled a breath in exasperation. “I wasn’t finished. I wanted to know what it was like. I was stuck in a tower for the majority of my life and have very little knowledge of what life is like for those outside the tower.”

“Why do you ask me such innane questions? I do not probe you for pointless information, do I?” She snapped.

Braden smirked at the word use. “You can probe me anytime.” Maker, he just could not resist.

Despite herself, Morrigan grinned, even though her response was still standoffish. “Beg pardon, then, while I jump for joy.” She sighed, eyeing him again. “You will keep pestering me unless I answer, won’t you? Fine, what was it you asked? What growing up in the wilds was like?” She turned her gaze away, facing forward once again. “For many years, it was simply Mother and I. The wilds and its creatures were more real to me than Mother’s tales of the world of men. In time, of course, I grew curious. I left the wilds and explored the world beyond, but never for long. My forays into the civilized wildness beyond the Wilds were brief.”

“But, you kept going back?” Braden asked. The Wilds were not nearly as confining as the Circle Tower was, but everytime he had managed to get beyond its walls, he’d been dragged back. His mentor had started calling him ‘the wanderer’ because of it.

Morrigan looked at him strangely, as if the idea of leaving her home forever was crazy. “Of course I did. Would you not do the same? Your world is a cold and unforgiving place. The Wilds I hail from is home to me and I, a natural denizen. And what I had been taught by mother was not enough. The truth I saw was overwhelming. So confident and bold was I, yet there was so much that Flemeth could never have prepared me for.”

Braden smiled at her and replied, “very daring. That sounds like you.”

Morrigan giggled and Braden felt his stomach flip at the sound. This may have been the very first time she’d laughed in response to something he’d said. “Equal parts daring and foolhardy, perhaps. Only once was I accused of being a Witch of the Wilds, and that by a chasind who happened to by travelling with a merchant caravan. He pointed at me and gasped and began shouting in his strange language and most assumed he was attempting to cast a curse on me. I acted the terrified girl and, naturally, he was arrested.”

“That was quick thinking,” he stated, impressed. Admittedly, he didn’t know how young she had been at the time, but regardless had done exactly what she needed to get out of that situation safely. It showed an intelligent and sharp mind and Braden found himself all the more attracted to her.

She smirked at his response. “Men are always willing to believe two things about a woman. One, that she is weak, and two, that she finds him attractive. I played the weakling and batted my eyelashes at the captain of the guard. Child’s play,” she finished smugly. Her golden gaze found him again, eyes calculating as she regarded him. Was she coming to the same conclusion about him as she had with most of the other men she had come across?  
Her gaze left him a very short moment later and she continued, “the point being that I was able to move through human lands fairly well. Whatever humans think a Witch of the Wilds looks like, t’is not I. Not that I did not have trouble, of course. There are things about human society that have always baffled me, such as the touching. Why all the touching for a simple greeting?”

Braden quirked an eyebrow at her, a flirtatious smirk playing on his lips. “Were you upset by the all the bad touching?”

Morrigan chuckled, a matching smirk playing on her full lips and her golden eyes catching his. “At least with that sort of touching I would have been able to intuit the intent with far greater ease.” Braden felt a little blood rush to his face. He had flirted with her, yes, he just hadn’t expected her to reciprocate! Damn, was she playing with him again?! Her smirk turned smug, a self-satisfied chuckle leaving her lips, and he had his answer. Those ethereal golden eyes of hers turned their gaze away once again, looking ahead. “There were many nuances that Flemeth could never tell me of. When to look into another’s eyes, how to eat at a table, how to bargain without offending… none of these things I knew.”

Braden shrugged, already over her tricking him again. “In your defense, I don’t know the ceremonies of eating at a table, either. From what I heard from the noble children at the circle, there would be four forks, four spoons, six plates and whatever else. Too many for just one person and they have a particular order. No, I’m sure if I found myself at a noble’s table, I would embarrass myself.”

Morrigan smirked, saying, “you do a fine job of embarrassing yourself without the added cutlery.” Braden smiled and shook his head, chuckling under his breath. The wilder woman wasn’t wrong about that. “Anyway, I gave up a long time ago trying to understand the ways of human society. The last time I returned to the Wilds, I swore to my Mother that I had no intention of leaving again,” she finished, her tone slightly bitter. Braden’s heart sank. So, she really hadn’t wanted to come along with them, only doing so out of a sense of obligation. Admittedly, he wouldn’t have joined their little group had he the choice, either, so he really couldn’t blame her.

“Well, once all this is over, you could always return home. But… I am glad it worked out this way,” Braden admitted. If she felt so strongly about her home, then she should be able to return.

“Yes, let’s just forget the darkspawn currently destroying the Wilds with their presence alone as well as your meager party of Grey Wardens, one of which, an absolute simpleton,” Morrigan sneered. Braden frowned, but didn’t know what to say in Alistair’s defense. He hadn’t known the other man long enough to gauge his character passed that he was a good man and a dedicated Grey Warden. The witch shrugged, continuing, “I do not lack appreciation for the intent of your comment, of course. Thank you.” As she said this, they had crested the rise of a hill in the road and below them sprawled the village of Lothering. They’d finally made it to their first destination on their journey to stop the Blight. Braden sighed. That meant he had to be responsible now, and he didn’t know if he was ready.

**Author's Note:**

> This story can also be found on FF.net. I am still in the process of writing but so far, have 20 chapters planned out. Enjoy!


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